


On Pointe (Adagio)

by Mistofstars, superpotterlock (fvalconbridge)



Series: On Pointe (Adagio) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Dean, Blind Castiel, Blind Character, Dancer Castiel, Dancer Dean, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Famous Castiel, M/M, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Romance, mentions of MS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistofstars/pseuds/Mistofstars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvalconbridge/pseuds/superpotterlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is your typical man, he loves beer, he loves going to the gym and watching football, and yeah, if you asked anyone they would agree he's a manly man. And he's happy with that. Except, things aren't quite what they seem to be... because yeah, Dean is actually gay and he loves ballet. Two secrets that he is willing to take to the grave. That is, until he meets Castiel. And that's when everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel’s song is[ Time by Hans Zimmer ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuAGGZNfUkU) Inspired by [this performance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYuBLv73jFA). Castiel’s playlist is [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBQFUvEsJQOakIIU15utVD_CyLd2MJJaN).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   ****

 

 

 

Dean’s footsteps echoed down the hall as he ran, his worn canvas ballet flats thudding against the old polished wood. The corridors were near dark and empty, an indication of how late it was. When Jo had asked him to stay an extra hour, he had wanted to say no, but he couldn't tell her the real reason why he couldn't stay - he had reluctantly agreed.

 

 

Dean had been dancing since he was in high school, ballet was his passion but it didn't pay the bills. He worked at a bar four nights a week and did a few day shifts on overtime when he could be bothered. He wasn't sure how long he could keep it up, hiring the studio was expensive even though it was the cheapest he knew. He couldn't exactly practise at home, not while Sam was there all the time. He was lucky if he managed to do some yoga without the little brat judging him with a raised eyebrow and a bitch face before Dean could slam his bedroom door in his face. Their apartment wasn't big enough for barres or to even do a decent warm up anyway… so that meant spending money on dance studios. He was barely scraping by.

 

 

Dean didn't want anyone to know he danced, he didn't lie about it but he didn't go out of his way to tell people either. It wasn't like he did it professionally or even knew what he was doing, it had been a long time since he had been to any kind of ballet lesson. Dean hadn't been able to afford to keep it up. He stayed strict with what he knew and the rest came naturally.

 

 

A few comments had been made about how fit he was, how he could manage to eat a burger a day and not get fat, he laughed it off and said he liked to stay in shape. And yeah, Dean loved his way of staying in shape, the burn after a good session was addictive, the shortness of breath, the rush of adrenaline, it made him feel alive. Everyone assumed Dean was a regular gym goer, which wasn’t a lie because he went to the gym at least twice a week, not only to keep up appearances but to keep up with his cardio and weight training. Ballet dancing was not for the light hearted.

 

 

He took the stairs instead of the lift; there wasn’t enough time, a real warm up would take an hour, and today he didn't have an hour spare. He had booked between eight and ten, but due to his good terms with the staff they sometimes let him stay until they had finished cleaning and locked up for the night. But it was already gone nine. It was such a waste. He jumped up the steps three at a time until he reached the third floor, desperate not to waste another cent. He could feel his heart rate accelerating from such a simple exercise, Dean knew he was getting sloppy; his decrease in practise was already taking its toll on his body.  He used to come to the studio often but Sam had needed new textbooks for school, and they weren’t cheap.

 

 

As soon as he opened the heavy door to the familiar corridor he could feel the wood vibrate under his feet from the bass of music. He hesitated. The room was in use. His heart sank and looked down at himself self consciously; he didn’t like sharing space with the other dancers. They made him feel like an imposter, like he was pretending to be something that he wasn’t. They were all so much better than he ever would ever be. He had dressed in a hurry, pulling on an old pair of black leggings and a baggy t-shirt. The people who danced here tended to have stylish and designer workout apparel but Dean danced best in these leggings, they were comfortable and stretched to his body shape. The material may be worn, but they were what worked for him. Ballet was all about being beautiful, beautiful people making beautiful shapes, and right now Dean didn’t fit that description.

 

 

How the hell had they managed to double book the crappiest room they owned?

 

 

He debated leaving but the thought of wasting a whole day's wages on a room that he hadn’t used was daunting. The extra ten dollars he had earned at the bar was seriously not worth missing his timeslot. Maybe someone had just left the music and lights on? Maybe it was that one cleaner dancing around with a mop again. Who knew? It wouldn’t be the first time… That guy was seriously strange.

 

He followed the music, curious, until he reached the window to the room. It was loud here, a deep thrum of violins filling the air in a melody that Dean didn’t recognise.

 

 

He stared.

 

 

Well, it certainly wasn’t a member of staff. It was a ballet dancer. A male ballet dancer. He didn't see many guys rehearse here; it was mainly teenage kids from the local dance school and middle aged women. This was undeniably a man; he looked a little older than Dean, late twenties at most.

Dean stared, transfixed.

 

 

He was a handsome man, dark haired with a pale complexion. He was dressed in three-quarter black leggings and a pair of pointe shoes, flattering to his tall and muscular build. He didn’t look like he should be a ballet dancer from first glance, the five o'clock shadow on his face and the dusting of hair down his chest, the way his hair was just a little too long, it wasn’t something that wasn’t typically allowed in professional shows. Anything messy was generally frowned upon. But by the way he moved, Dean could tell he was experienced, from his straight fingertips, to his pointed toes, the perfect curve of his body as he moved flawlessly around the room, there was no doubt each moved was ingrained into muscle memory. He had probably danced for most of his life.

 

 

He watched the straight lines the man created with his body, the slow, calculated and intricate way that he moved.

 

 

The dancer was lost in the music, his eyes closed and expression blank as he danced. His limbs extended gracefully in arabesque and then relaxed as he spun out into the most perfect fouetté rond de jambe en tournant Dean had ever seen.

 

 

Dean watched, unable to look away as the music's tempo picked up and the man leaped, twisted and turned. Though his eyes were closed, he was completely aware of his limited dance space; he never once stepped out of line or came close to the room’s edges. He must have danced here before, maybe many times, perhaps Dean had been stealing his dance space unknowingly?

 

 

The man’s hands were perfectly poised as he suddenly stopped and reached for the sky as if praying. He wasn’t  just dancing, he was performing. He bent his body beautifully, one hand stabling itself on the floor before he rocked his body forwards, his legs parted in a perfect vertical split as he balanced on his hand. Dean had always been envious of dancers who could go upside down… He made it look effortless but as Dean looked closely he could see the strain on the man’s arm, the shimmer of sweat on his bare chest, the flex of his muscle in his shoulders. He remained in that pose longer than Dean thought should have been possible, though it may have only been a few seconds. He flipped out of it, rolling to the floor before continuing on from there, twisting onto his stomach and working close to the floor.

 

 

Obviously this man had deep discipline with himself. He had such control, even with his breathing, and Dean couldn’t look away. He stood, leant against the glass until the song started to come to an end and the man’s movements started to slow.

 

 

Dean couldn't gather enough courage to dance in front of someone like that, so he stayed watching the ballet dancer until he felt like he was watching something far too personal.

 

 

It was time to go home.

 

 

He sighed, disappointed in himself and then made his way back to his car.

 

 

 

      

 

 

 

“Where’ve you been?” Sam yelled as soon as he walked in the door. He jumped up from the sofa and was across the room in seconds, immediately pulling Dean into a hug and almost crushing his ribcage.

 

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean complained and struggled to get his giant of a brother off him. “I haven’t been anywhere,” he mumbled, face pressed uncomfortably against Sam’s shoulder. He gave up struggling and hugged him back for a few seconds before Sam finally let him pull away.

 

 

“Jo called here to tell you that you left your wallet at work, she said you left over an hour ago, I was worried sick!”

 

 

Dean shrugged and walked around Sam and into the kitchen. He was starving. He raided the fridge, throwing some stuff together to make a sandwich.

 

 

“You never answer your phone.” Sam followed him into the kitchen, he looked super annoyed.

 

“I was just out and about…” Dean tried to brush it off, he wished Sam wouldn’t do this. He shoved his sandwich in his mouth and gave him a big smile with a mouthful of food, hoping to gross him out enough that he would go away.

 

 

Sam looked him up and down with an epic bitch face and Dean cringed, he had been so sidetracked thinking about the ballet dancer that he hadn’t changed in the car… In fact, he had left his clothes on the back seat. Damn it.

 

 

“Dressed like that?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Dean… are those ballet shoes?” His brother stared at his feet and Dean turned beet red. “I really don’t need to see evidence of all the kinky crap you're getting yourself involved in.”

 

 

“Sam! They’re pumps! I was at the gym!” Sam looked at him disbelievingly. He glared back at his baby brother and then stormed out the kitchen.

 

 

“Right, the gym, of course you were. Just answer your freaking phone next time.”

 

 

 

 

 

When he was fifteen he went to a private dance school for classes, he paid for them with his paper round so his dad never got any input on it. The principle had always said that he had so much potential, but he was the only male there. It made him feel a little left out. Sometimes the girls had laughed at him for picking a “feminine dance”. He sometimes watched the modern dancers across the hall but he could never get the hang of that, none of it appealed to him. He guessed it had given him some serious issues. He had a bit of a love/hate relationship with ballet.

 

 

Ballet was like flying, he felt like it was such a release from the problems and stress from the real world. It was easy to concentrate on the repetition, practising until he could get the best he could, getting lost in the familiar motions. He danced with the girls until he was eighteen, but he was never confident enough to admit it to Sam, never confident enough to do a show. His dad had never approved of him dancing, he scolded him for wasting his money on such nonsense, but he had no idea that it was ballet Dean loved and he never worked up the nerve to tell him. He didn’t want to know how he would take that news.  And then his dad died, so he never got the chance to know anyway. After that he couldn’t afford the strict routine that came with attending a ballet school, the clothes, the rehearsals, the constant training, it was all too much. He had left so he could raise Sam.

 

 

He had never abandoned dancing; he carried on with the stretches, the early morning jogging and the fitness regime. Sometimes he danced after work in the bar after he had locked it up. For what felt like a very long few years, Dean stared longingly at YouTube videos and did the best he could with the limited space of a two bedroom apartment. It was last year when Sam applied to go to college that he started to have enough free time to pick it up properly again. But that came with moving into an even smaller apartment which was closer to the city. That’s when he had found the studios. He didn’t want to give up a good thing just because someone else was dancing in his space, he couldn’t stay in his own personal bubble forever if he wanted to carry on dancing. But Dean had been dancing alone for so long now, that he didn’t know how to do anything else... He would just have to try and go on the days that the other man wasn’t there.

 

 

Dean went back to the studio the next day and then the next, each time the male ballet dancer was there. He hadn’t booked the studio those days, so he wasn’t disappointed to see he was using the space. Dean was obviously right in thinking that the other guy used the space regularly; he must have missed him the other times. He hadn’t exactly been attending these studios long…

Dean stayed and watched him dance and the other man never seemed to notice him through the window, either that or he didn’t mind him watching. He was probably used to people watching him dance.

 

 

The second night Dean remained in the corridor mirroring him, following the man step by step as he watched him through the glass. It was closest he had been to dancing with anyone in years. He grew frustrated as slipped, his leg buckling under him on one particularly difficult jump. He went home, pushed his bed against the wall and repeated it until the move was burned into his muscles, not going to sleep until early hours. He woke up mid-afternoon more motivated than he had been all year, jogging an extra mile, working harder at the gym and then doing an hour’s yoga before he left for his night shift, determined to get onto some more of those more advanced steps.

 

 

Dean went back again and again. He told himself it was because he hadn’t ever had chance to learn from another man before, but somehow he knew otherwise.

 

 

The music became familiar; the man used the same playlist over those days, the same pink iPod sat on top of the sound system. Dean looked forward to watching him dance to that first song, the one that had got him so fascinated with the other man, the one he had danced to on that very first night. He still didn’t know what it was called but it was beautiful to watch. Each performance was unique and sometimes even a little painful to watch, as if his whole body was in deep mourning.

 

 

On the third night, Dean watched something change in the man, his style flipping drastically to something between neoclassical ballet and contemporary. He danced angry, his movement fierce, fast and almost too much to watch. He didn’t make it to the end of his dance, he tripped and landed on his knees where he crumbled to the floor. Dean almost thought it was part of his performance until he noticed his shoulders shaking. Dean was surprised to find himself close to tears watched the man’s pain, he wiped his face. For the first time he itched to step inside the room and hold out a friendly hand, help him off the floor and pick up the pieces of the undoubtedly broken man.

 

 

Each time Dean watched him dance, he found the man had took his breath away, he left with his heart beating out of his chest and butterflies in his stomach.

 

 

 

 

When Dean walked up the stairs on Friday, he found himself smiling as he opened the corridor door and he felt the familiar vibrations of a too loud bass vibrating against his feet. The guy was back again. But today Dean had booked the room, he had decided that he couldn’t dance in the corridor forever, it was dumb and he was technically still using the studio space so he better pay before someone reported him. That meant he would have to find some courage today.

 

 

He meant to walk straight in, he really did, but today the guy was wearing a tight pair of shorts, black leather flats on his feet and Dean could not for the life of him stop staring at those strong thighs. He was already mid routine and Dean smiled at his grace.

 

 

Dean flushed in embarrassment as the ballet dancer looked up, eyes staring right at him through the glass, he had been caught. The guy smiled in his direction as he straightened up. It was as if he had heard Dean’s thoughts.

 

 

Well, he couldn't just sneak off now like he had been planning to. It would be good to introduce himself after watching the guy for days; he didn’t want him to think that he was some kind of stalker.

 

He took a deep breath before he walked inside.

 

 

"They er, double booked us, do you mind?" Dean asked, just as the door banged shut. The guy had just turned the music off and practically jumped out of his skin at the sound.

 

 

“Oh shit, you startled me.” The man's voice was deep, not what Dean had expected at all. His head whipped around in Dean’s direction and he took a deep breath as if to calm himself once he had realised it was just the door banging.

 

 

“Sorry,” he answered guiltily, he hadn’t meant to.

 

 

He waited for an answer but the other man didn’t reply to his question. He took this as a good sign so he dropped his bag and then walked to the barre, trying not to be ashamed of his rosy cheeks. He was always embarrassing himself in front of attractive guys. Girls he could flirt with all day, guys just made him weak at the knees and turned him into a mumbling idiot. He had always guessed it was the appeal of the unknown, having never had the opportunity to be with a man romantically. He started to warm up, trying to ignore the man’s eyes on him, after all, he had watched him first.

 

 

"I didn't think you were going to come."

 

 

Dean paused mid movement and frowned.

 

 

"Excuse me?" he asked, not understanding what the man meant. Crap... maybe he had noticed that he had been watching him the past few days? He concentrated on looking straight in front of him, trying to remain professional as he went through the actions of his warm up.

 

 

"Gabriel told me that you came here Thursday through Sunday, I waited for you, but today was the first time you showed up. I thought Gabriel might have been joking when he said someone started using this studio."

 

 

"Gabriel?" Dean was sure he was one of the janitors if they were thinking of the same guy.

 

 

"My brother, he works here, he said I should talk to you," he explained.

 

 

“Oh,” Dean replied, he wasn’t sure what else to say about that. He had spoken to Gabriel a few times; he was the one who always let him stay until closing time. This guy looked nothing like his brother, he never would have guessed they were related.

 

 

“Do you mind sharing this studio with me? I sometimes come in the morning and evening.” He didn’t understand why the guy was asking, after all, Dean seemed to be the only self conscious ballet dancer in the world. He didn’t understand why the guy would even think it was an issue. Maybe he was coming across as hostile? Dean frowned again, changing from fifth position into a plie. He didn’t mind sharing the space, not really, the guy seemed okay enough. That thought alone was a comforting one, maybe Dean could gain something out of actually socialising with other ballet dancers instead of avoiding them? Maybe he was getting better, maybe he could finally stop feeling guilty for enjoying this. And seems this guys brother had been doing him favours for months, he really couldn’t say no.

 

 

“I’m not really a people person,” Dean warned, because he wasn’t. He could count all his friends on one hand and he liked it that way.

 

 

“It’s just that I can’t dance anywhere else.” He sounded insecure, his voice somehow small. Well, Dean could relate to that, maybe this guy was just as broke as him.

 

 

“And I’m not a very good dancer, so as long as you don’t laugh at me we’ll get along fine.” The admission seemed important, it was Dean’s biggest fear when it came to dancing. He didn’t react well to being teased so if they were going to share a space then he would stamp that out before it could start.

 

 

“I somehow don’t think that will be a problem,” he said, his tone biting and Dean actually stopped and looked ahead in the mirror to see if he had offended the guy. He caught his reflection, but he had sat on the floor, legs apart and stretching, his face hidden from view.

 

 

The remainder of Dean’s practise was a little awkward, he wasn’t sure where he stood. He was kind of afraid of opening his mouth again and saying something wrong. Eventually the other dancer turned the iPod back on after Dean had made no use of the sound system. It was better than the silence.

 

 

The man was just as beautiful as he always was, managing to dance in a way that Dean could only dream of achieving. He had clearly studied different kinds of ballet, maybe even different kinds of dance, he was very unique in the way he displayed himself. Every move was clearly thought out and Dean could practically feel the passion in the man's movement. It was even more stunning close up. The man was achingly attractive. He tried not to make it obvious that he couldn’t keep his eyes off him, it somehow felt wrong, the guy seriously had no idea Dean kept looking at him, it was like he was lost in his own world when he danced. He felt bad and tried to keep his eyes to himself.

 

 

After a couple of hours the lights flashed, signalling that it was time to get moving. The music cut off.

 

Dean started his warm down, watching the other dancer in the mirror, following his movement playfully and trying to get his attention. He hoped they would get a chance to dance together, they would look really, really good. Dean smiled at him through the reflection, trying to get him to smile back at Dean’s attempts of flirtation but he stared straight ahead. Dean’s ego shrank and his pride was more than a little crushed, he didn’t get a response out of him at all.

 

 

He sighed and gave up, stretching one last time before he grabbed his towel and wiped himself down. He must have really pissed him off earlier.

 

 

Dean didn’t really fancy a repeat performance of this. As much as he idolised the man’s dancing skills, the atmosphere in the room was sour. Maybe they could come to some kind of agreement to use the room on opposite nights?

 

 

Dean was packing his things, exhausted and feeling more than uncomfortable when the other man spoke.

 

 

“I’m sorry for snapping, it’s still very new to me.” Dean wasn’t sure what that meant but he took the apology for what it was. Dean turned to look at him, watched as he pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, movement slightly mechanic. He was avoiding looking at Dean and it made his heart sink.

 

 

“Hey man, no problem,” Dean said, feeling a little relieved that he wanted to clear the air too. It must be just as uncomfortable for him. “I just, I’m sorry if I offended you. You’re a seriously good dancer compared to me, guess I’m just self conscious… or something.” Dean answered, face flushing. He stared at the floor.

 

 

“I understand. It’s just been hard for me to adjust and dancing is my escape. So even if I could, I would never laugh at your dancing. ” The guy stood, grabbing his things and made his way over to Dean with a small, friendly mile. That was progress.

 

 

It was then that Dean noticed a few things that he hadn’t before, the man had not only thrown a bag over his shoulder, but he had picked up a white stick. It took some time for him to realise what it was and he ended up staring dumbly for a few seconds.

 

 

Things started to fall into place and Dean tried not to act surprised.

 

 

This man was blind.

 

 

Dean was such a fucking asshole.

 

****


	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn’t dare go back the next day; he really didn’t know how to wrap his head around his discovery. He had been watching the ballet guy for days, and there were seriously no signs, aside from the stick that he was blind, or so he had thought.

 

 

He lay in bed, turning thoughts and memories, over and over, trying to see what he had missed. It seemed obvious when he retraced their short conversation.

 

 

_“It’s just that I can’t dance anywhere else.”_

 

 

God, Dean fucking hated himself. There he was thinking with his dick and trying to flirt with the guy after he had just fucking insulted him.

 

 

_“I somehow don’t think that will be a problem.”_

 

 

The guy must think Dean was a complete moron. He shouldn’t have been the one apologizing, Dean should have. But after he had realised, he hadn’t known what to say. He had ended up embarrassing himself more by stammering like an idiot until he excused himself.

 

 

The respect and admiration that he had for this man had instantly grown.

 

 

He had never been attracted to someone with a disability before, he wondered if it would change things, if he would go back and the feelings would have simply vanished. He really hoped that his body wasn’t that shallow. Whoever this guy was, he had left Dean inspired and he wanted to get to know him more. It had been a long time since he had been interested in knowing a person longer than a one night stand, and this was the first time he had taken an active interest in a man. He had never been so impressed that going for it was worth coming out the closet. But for this man… he was something else entirely, something Dean wanted to worship every day for the rest of his life. He had never longed for someone like this and it quite honestly frightened him.

 

 

He felt guilty, he had watched this man secretly, seen him in insecure, private moments, and it was such an invasion. The right thing to do would be to go back and admit what had happened, apologize and hope for the best. Dean couldn’t dance alongside him knowing that he had betrayed his trust before he had even known him.

 

 

Dean obsessed over it for days; it was all he thought about. What made it worse was that there wasn’t anyone that he could talk to about this stuff. Sam was out of the question as it would mean admitting that he pranced around like a fairy four nights a week and Jo would possibly laugh at him and try get him to wear a tutu. His options weren’t looking good.

 

 

 

 

“Okay, what’s the matter?” Sam asked. He was sprawled across the sofa, a heavy book open across his chest.

 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his brother’s legs out the way, forcing him to sit up. He collapsed on the sofa next to him. He had been out jogging for an hour and a half and he felt like he was going to die. He let himself sink down the cushions; it was so good to sit down. He toed his shoes off.

 

 

“What?” he asked, playing dumb. He really didn’t want to have this conversation.

 

 

“Dean, I’m not an idiot, I know there’s something wrong.”

 

 

“There’s nothing wrong,” he denied.

 

 

“You disappear for hours on end with no explanation. I try not to interfere with whatever it is you feel the need to hide from me. But this week you’ve been mopey as hell. If you're in some kind of trouble you can tell me.”

 

 

“Sam, I’m fine, I don’t know what you think I get up to but I swear to God that I’m just working out.” He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what Sam must think of him, but he knew it was his own fault. If he wasn’t so damn secretive and could be more accepting of himself then he wouldn’t have this problem. Maybe Sam would respect him more.

 

 

“I’m so tired of your bullshit,” Sam sighed. “There’s no way you work out that much.”

 

 

Dean sat up and gave him a dirty look. Great, now Sam thought he was a liar.

 

 

“Well I do, so I don’t know what you want me to say.”

 

 

“So you work out, alone, several times a day.” Sam looked at him suspiciously, trying to read Dean’s facial expression. He must have gave something away because Sam said, “You work out… not alone… several times a day?” Dean glared at him. “Do you even have any friends?”

 

 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sammy, you’re not Dad, stop sticking your nose in my business. I’m allowed a life that doesn’t revolve around you.”

 

 

 

 

When Dean finally gathered enough courage to go to the Studio on Sunday, he was disappointed to hear no music as he stepped into the corridor. Feeling dejected he made his way into the room. At least he could dance today.

 

 

The room looked really large and empty.

 

 

Dean used this time alone to vent. He was irritated today, frustrated with his job, the horrible unsociable hours that completely screwed his sleeping pattern, and the shitty pay that meant he couldn't do anything that he wanted. He was angry with himself, not only for lying about who he was to Sam, but he was getting increasingly annoyed with the lies he told himself.

 

 

Why was this even an issue?!

 

 

Watching that man dance and discovering his blindness had knocked Dean back into reality and shifted things back into perspective. If someone could dance blind, then there was no reason why Dean couldn’t do it. The only person who was stopping him was himself. He had always known this, but now it seemed… final.

 

 

Dean was half way through an angsty expression of self loathing when the doors to the studio opened. He spun around and let him himself drop to the floor as he relaxed, he fell on his ass and then lied back, trying to catch his breath. It was the guy, he was dressed differently today, in a pair of skinny jeans with a shirt and a jacket, black boots on his feet. It was strange to see him wearing heavy footwear when he was used to seeing him in such fitting, delicate clothing.

 

 

Dean needn’t have worried about his feelings disappearing since he had got to know more about the man. Seeing him standing in the studio after he hadn’t seen him in a couple of days was doing serious things to Dean’s heart.

 

 

“Hello?” The man called out unsurely, white stick held loosely in his left hand. “Are you busy?” He looked around the room unsurely until his eyes focused in Dean’s direction. Dean stared at him from the ground, he wondered if it was muscle memory, habit or just a plain instinct. He made him think that he couldn’t have always been blind if his eyes knew where to look for the noise. Or maybe Dean was just ignorant.

 

 

“Hey,” Dean replied, realising that he was being rude. He climbed to his feet and strode over to the other man.

 

 

“Hi, I was hoping you would be here today.” He smiled nervously.

 

 

He had always looked so confident when dancing that Dean would have never guessed that he was a shy person. Or maybe Dean just made him feel that way, he wouldn’t be surprised after their first official meeting. Dean really hadn’t made the best first impression.

 

 

“Yeah, I, erm… was just working off some energy.” Dean laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just realised we don’t even know each other’s names,” Dean prompted. He would love to get to know this guy more.

 

 

“Sorry, Gabriel spared no details when he talked about you. I’m Cas, by the way.” Dean grinned. Cas. He liked it, it suited him.

 

 

“And you obviously know that I’m Dean...”

 

 

“Yes.”

 

 

Cas held out his hand and Dean shook it firmly, cautious not to let his touch linger too long but Cas surprised him by placing a hand over their joined ones. Dean smiled at the gesture, warmed by it.

 

Dean felt butterflies erupt in his stomach; it was like he was a freaking teenager again.

 

 

"Look, I'm sorry about being such an ass the other day," he said, knowing that he had to try and fix his stupidity.

 

 

"Its fine, I wasn't exactly polite, not one of my finer moments." Cas smiled and squeezed his hand just a second before he let go.

 

 

"I erm, I didn't realise that you were..." Dean let the sentence hang. Was there a polite way to say someone was blind? Was that even the correct word to use?

 

 

"You didn't know I was blind," he finished for him, trying to spare Dean the humiliation but somehow making him feel worse.

 

 

Dean didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it. Castiel’s eyes were a lovely shade of blue and very bright. He had somehow thought that they would look different, that he would be able to tell they were damaged, but they looked fine. Aside from looking slightly away from Dean, his eyes not quite focusing how they should, it wasn’t noticeable. Dean was so dumb when it came to this kind of thing... he wasn’t going to ask about it. That was totally inappropriate.

 

 

"Well, it wasn't obvious to me, the way you dance is flawless... And I wasn't exactly looking at your eyes," Dean said playfully, though it was the truth.

 

 

The burst of astonished laughter that came from Cas was a delight to Dean's ears.

 

 

"Well, it’s nice to know I've still got it." Cas grinned, looking truly happy for a moment, flattered by Dean’s compliment. Dean wished he could make him that happy every day.

 

 

"I, erm, I have another hour booked. Do you wanna dance?" he offered, feeling his hands begin to sweat at the question. What if Cas said no? After all, he didn’t know him and he was unaware of how long Dean had been watching him. To Cas, this was the second time they had met, but to Dean, he had lost count.

 

 

"In boots and jeans?" Cas laughed again, cheeks flushing slightly. "Okay," he said and dropped his stick to the floor. "Why not..."

 

 

Dean watched gobsmacked as he started to shrug out of his clothes. Dean looked at the floor, a grin spread across his face. Cas was cheeky, he liked that. Cas undressed until he was in his underwear, a tight pair of black boxer brief that left nothing to the imagination. Dean scolded himself and determinedly looked at the man’s face.

 

 

Cas kicked his clothes to the edge of the room and slowly stepped back to the furthest wall until his back was pressed against one of the room length mirrors. He lifted his arms and walked until he felt the corner of the room, calculating steps until he was in the corner. He stepped away in two large strides.

 

“Where are you? You’re too quiet, maybe we should get you some bells if we’re going to share this space.” Dean shuffled back quickly, trying to get out of the way; he needed to think about these things.

 

“Ha, maybe.” Dean laughed.

 

 

Cas walked forward confidently until he was stood in front of the barres. He immediately lifted his leg and began to stretch. He must have already warmed up... Dean hesitated before he joined him.

 

 

“Can I… I’m on your left hand side.” Dean said unsurely, feeling like an idiot as he said it. Hand hovering over the barre.

 

 

“Thanks,” Cas mumbled.

 

 

They were quiet for a long time, Dean really wanted to ask Cas so many questions, tell him so many things, but he didn’t know where to start and he didn't want to come on too strong.

 

 

“Have you been dancing for a long time?” Cas asked him. Well, that had been a good place, he wasn't sure why he hadn’t thought to ask that, after all, it was a shared passion between the two of them.

 

“Not as long as some,” he answered. “I got interested late, when I was about fourteen, started lessons at fifteen and did a few years of it.

 

 

“That is very late.”

 

 

“Yeah, I know and I had to give it up for a while as well, couldn’t afford it but I’ve tried to keep it up the best I can. I’ve spent more time out of classes than in, I’m more than sloppy at this point.”

 

 

“Gabriel says you dance beautifully.” Damn him, creepy janitor hanging around and watching his dance... karma was a bitch…

 

 

“Oh, I... don’t know about that.”

 

 

“Perhaps it’s your confidence that needs a little work and not you’re dancing.” Dean wanted to say that he wouldn’t be saying that if he could see him, but he bit his tongue before he let the words slip out. That would be seriously offensive. Why the hell did his brain even go to them places?

 

 

“You are much better than me,” he said, instead.

 

 

“I would imagine so, I’ve danced since I was five, I used to do it professionally until I had my accident two years ago. I haven't been hired since, no-one wants a blind dancer.” Dean froze in shock. Cas was a wonderful dancer, undeniably the best he had ever seen, how could they fire him because he had a disability?

 

 

“Isn’t that discrimination or something?” Sam was at law school and he was always ranting on the phone and over skype about these things for papers, Dean knew a little about the Equality Act.

 

 

“No, I am incapable of dancing with others.” He said it like it was fact, but Dean didn’t think it was. Cas did just fine in this dance space, surely of someone gave a little of their time and patience, he might be able to.

 

 

“There are a lot of things you can do that I would never even attempt. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

 

 

“We’re ballet dancers, we strive for perfection and accept nothing less. It’s why we chose this dance, but I’ve long learned it’s an impossible feat chasing perfection.” Cas lowered his leg and changed positions. He stepped back and placed both hands on the barre, he leant forward slowly, lifting his right leg backwards, pointing his toes to the ceiling so he was standing arabesque, leg a lot higher than Dean was capable of, creating a perfect line.

 

 

“You look pretty damn perfect to me.”

 

 

Cas held the pose faultlessly but turned his head to look towards Dean, expression soft and something unreadable across his handsome features.

 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered. He hid his face against his arms for a few seconds as a soft blush blossomed on his cheeks.

 

 

Cas lowered his pose and changed legs. Dean copied him, getting into position, though as he raised his leg it locked just short of where Cas’ was. He physically couldn’t move it any more. He took as deep breath and tried to straighten more, to push past the barrier but it changed the symmetry of his entire body, he felt the ball of his foot rock, unbalancing him, knocking him out of concentration for a second. His foot smacked to the floor loudly. Dean cringed, humiliated, it had been years since he had made such a stupid mistake.

 

 

“Fuck,” he growled, annoyed with himself. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t do it.

 

 

“What happened?” Cas safely relaxed next to him.

 

 

“I can't get my legs to do what I want them to," he revealed, ashamed.

 

"How so?" Cas looked intrigued, genuinely interested in why he was struggling. Dean thought about shaking it off, changing to subject… but he couldn’t do that. A professional ballet dancer was stood next to him, asking him what he needed help with. He could never let this opportunity pass. Not only that, but he clearly cared, Cas wasn’t a ballet teacher that was getting paid to help him, he was simply a nice guy that wanted to.

 

 

"I can't get my leg straight like you, how do you do that? You make it look easy."

 

 

"Lots of practise…” Cas looked deep in thought for a second. “Can you do front standing split correctly?"

 

 

"Obviously..." Dean replied.

 

 

"All the way up?" Cas was looking at him like he knew otherwise.

 

 

“Yeah,” he defended.

 

 

"Show me. I don't believe you. You can never go backwards before forwards.” Dean sighed and lifted his foot, gripping his ankle, he lifted his foot slowly above his head.

 

 

"There, I'm doing it, happy?"

 

 

Dean was about to drop his leg when Cas stepped forwards, hands reaching for him. He stood still, very aware that his stance was not as balanced as it should have been. His face blushed in embarrassment at his amateur mistake. Cas touched his leg gently with both hands, feeling upwards until he reached his foot, he tutted, clearly displeased with what he felt.

 

 

"Wrong. Straighten your toes properly."

 

 

Dean pointed his toes and felt the muscles in his leg protest, his foot quivered under Cas' firm touch, his toes demanding to relax. Cas felt it and supported the arch of Dean's foot with his thumb. He slowly, carefully turned it so it was in the correct place. He stepped closer into Dean's space.

 

 

Dean struggled to keep grip on his ankle as his hands started to sweat, he twisted his hand, getting a steadier grip. Cas gripped his knee with his other hand and pulled, Dean's leg straightened further, snug between their two bodies.  Dean felt like he was seconds from crumbling to the floor as a shock of pain ran up his leg. He sucked in a deep breath.

 

 

"Cas," he hissed through gritted teeth.

 

 

"Relax."

 

 

"I can't relax, I'm gonna fall." Dean started to panic, he lifted his free arm outwards, trying to get some control back but he was going to unbalance any second. He could feel his ankle start to quiver under his weight, any second now and the ball of his foot would roll out of instinct to regain his balance and it would fuck up everything.

 

 

"You're not, it's okay." Cas was quick to reassure but it didn’t make him panic any less. He was about to screw up big time…The only thing that kept him calm enough to not freak out and fall was the fact that Cas would unexpectedly get hurt when he was only trying to help. Dean’s chances of getting a date with this guy would dramatically decrease if he kicked him in the face.

 

 

Cas let go of his knee and Dean didn't dare move, it had been a long time since someone had pushed him this far, it had been a regular occurrence in ballet classes, his body wasn't used to it anymore. He hadn't realised how lazy he had got. Cas' hand found his waist, sneaking around until it was resting at the base of his spine. He smoothed his hand up the length of Dean's back and Dean moved the way Cas guided him as he sucked in a deep breath.

 

 

"Ouch," he complained but held the pose the best he could.

 

 

"Five... four... three... two... one."

 

 

Dean relaxed and slowly lowered his leg, Cas supporting him gently, though he still stumbled forward as his leg muscles spasmed, he expected the man to step away but he caught him with a laugh.

 

 

"So you weren’t just flirting... You are a little sloppy…” Cas smiled. “Did I hurt you?" he asked, gripping Dean by his arms.

 

 

"Yes! You just freaking killed me, but in a good way. That was brilliant. Thank you." Dean couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He could feel the stretch in his muscles, feel the burn, it was exhilarating.

 

They ended up sat on the floor and talked about many things until eventually they ended up sitting opposite each other with their feet together, Cas reminding Dean of various stretches he should be doing every day by going through them one by one.

 

 

“You know, you aren’t as bad as you probably think you are. You need more confidence in yourself. But I think the real problem is in your feet, you need to practise balance. Do you have a wobble board? It’ll build the strength in your ankles and help with your balance issues.”

 

 

Dean knew what a wobble board was but he wasn’t sure where he could buy one and he had never used one, he hadn’t had this problem when he attended ballet lessons, it must have developed as his standards had slipped over the years.

 

 

"I don't have one, could you recommend anything else?"

 

 

"Well, I have one you can borrow; I have a few things you could probably benefit from using." Cas said it nonchalantly, like it wasn't a big deal to led his things to Dean.

 

 

"That's er, really nice of you, are you sure?"

 

 

"Of course, Dean. When you have that standing leg split sorted, I'll help you with the other one, it requires a lot more balance. You have your hand to support your leg when you do that, but if you want to lift it high backwards, there isn't anything to support it, you need to learn to balance and improve your flexibility. You're clearly flexible, but you should practise your splits more and over-split more regularly." Dean nodded, it made a lot of sense and got him thinking about things that he hadn't in a long time. Not dancing as regularly as he wanted, and being unable to stretch and practise often, meant that he hadn't even thought about doing an over split in months. It was frustrating because he felt like he was going backwards with his dancing, instead of improving like he should be, but he knew that now he had someone to guide him he had the motivation. It was just the kick up the ass that he had needed, the encouragement that he had been craving his entire life.

 

 

"That seems like an easy fix," he said.

 

 

"There is nothing easy about that..." Cas looked at him like he was crazy. "I should really go," Cas said standing up. "But I'll bring some stuff for you tomorrow, you'll be here, right?"

 

 

"Yeah, I'll be here with bells on."

 

 

Cas laughed.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Friday night found Dean standing in his underwear on the arm of the sofa, a pair of ballet pumps laced on his bare feet as all his tights were dirty and he never washed them at home, they were shoved in a duffle bag under his bed, ready to make a trip to the dry cleaners. He really hoped that the sofa wouldn’t tip under his weight, he was twice the size of his teenage self, and the last time he had done this was years ago. He couldn’t believe that it had been so long...

  


Once he had realised he was balanced enough and the sofa was stable, he took a deep breath and stretched his right leg forwards, he thought about using his left leg first but his right had always been his strongest, so he thought it best to try with that first. He reached for the other arm with his foot and prayed he wasn’t going to fall and smack his head off the coffee table. He took a deep breath, stared at the clock on the wall and found his centre of gravity. Thankfully his foot reached the edge of the sofa and Dean smiled and let out a shaky exhale. He was just tall enough that he could balance between the two arms safely and without much difficulty. He held his weight easily, his feet holding his weight and preventing him from slipping, he knew as soon as he lowered himself he was going to feel a burn.

  


Cas’ recommendation was to use towels on the floor if he couldn’t oversplit properly due to his neglect of practising his flexibility, but he had been doing that for days now and he still wasn’t at the right angle just yet. Doing it on the sofa would give him the gravity he needed to push himself just that little bit further.

  


He glanced nervously towards the front door, he had put the latch on so Sam wouldn't be able to walk straight in, but it still made him nervous. He hadn't done any ballet related exercise outside the privacy of his bedroom since they had moved. He looked one last time before he breathed deep and focused. Dean needed to find peace with the fact he danced, so one step at a time, he was trying to find the courage to stop hiding it. He was sure that it wouldn't be a big deal to anyone else, but it felt like progress to him.

  


He took another deep breath and slowly started to relax, one hand braced on the back of the sofa just incase. He let gravity do most the work as he concentrated on keeping his hips facing forwards in the right place. He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he felt the couch cushions hit his thighs. His left thigh pulled slightly, but not enough to be uncomfortable. He let go of the edge of the sofa and balanced, impressed with himself and then leant forwards to touch his toes, remembering to point them correctly.

  


He couldn’t wait to show Cas.

  
  


  


By the end of the week Dean and Cas found themselves in a steady routine, they quickly grew used to each other and it was amazing how comfortable Dean became around the other man in such a short time. Cas was surprisingly easy to talk to and as they stretched and danced and goofed around the studio, they talked about a lot of things. Dean found himself opening up to Cas and telling him things that he hadn’t even told Sam; sometimes it was small guilty confessions such as that he had always wanted a dog but he didn’t have the space because Sam lived with him, though sometimes it was darker and deeper things. What ever it was, visiting the studio was quickly the best part of Dean’s day and he was completely convinced that his feelings were fast becoming mutual.

  


Dean was confident with his oversplit by the time he showed Cas, with both his left and right foot forwards. He happily hooked his heel on the barre and slid backwards, he gripped the barre with both hands for support but he knew he had  made a beautiful curve with his legs. The feel of Cas hands smoothing across his legs, of him gripping his hips and touching his perfectly pointed toes, touch lingering, made Dean’s stomach warm. Cas was pleased with what he felt and praised him, the compliment of “a perfect oversplit” going straight to his head.

  


The downside of spending so much time with Cas was that Dean’s pay packet was starting to feel the stress of increased visits to the dance studio, he tended to go four times a week, whereas he had been for six days straight, sometimes even in the morning. It wasn’t until he was stood in the grocery store with his card being declined that he realised how much he had been spending on dancing. He flashed the cashier his prettiest smile and asked to pay part-cash, part-card. How embarrassing.

  


Luckily Dean was paid weekly so he decided to take a trip to work that morning, when he got there he pulled Jo to the side.

  


“I know hours are kinda short right now, but I was wondering if there was any over time?” he asked, feeling humiliated, but he didn’t have much choice.  

  


Jo gave him a confused look.

  


“I’m really sorry Dean, I don’t have anymore hours I can justify giving away...” she explained with a sorry look on her face. Dean regularly did overtime, but only when Jo asked him and it was often to cover other peoples sick days or when they couldn’t be assed to turn in.

  


“Are you struggling? You’ve never asked for overtime before… “

  


He had always struggled but he had always got through it by not going to the studio for a few days, but no one knew. Now he had met Cas he was unwilling to do that, he couldn’t cut the time they spent together... He would never ask Sam to get a job, how would he have time to study if he worked part-time? He tried not to show how disappointed he was.

  


“No, I- I just wanted some extra cash,” he lied.

  


“Are you sure?” she gave him a suspicious look. “You can tell me, I can try and work something out…” Dean debated telling her what he was using the money for, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. He wasn’t ready.

  


“I erm… I’ve met someone, and I think it could be something special,” he said, settling for a half-truth. “It’s nice to have money so we can spend time together, that’s all.”

  


A cheeky grin broke out on Jo’s face. “Look at you, closet romantic... “ she teased and Dean rolled his eyes, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything, he was already regretting it. And maybe he’d jinxed himself, wasn’t it bad luck to assume?

  


“Well it’s not a thing, but it might be a thing,” he stumbled over his words, feeling his cheeks start to burn in embarrassment, he decided the best course of action would be to shut the hell up. “Do you have anything or not?”

  


“You’re really serious, huh?” Dean nodded and kicked his boots together, interested in the floor. “Okay, okay, I have no bar hours, but Chuck has booked five days holiday, something about taking Becky to an anime convention… I wasn’t going to cover it but since you look so pretty when you're desperate... any good with a mop and bucket?”

  
  


 

 

They both slid to the floor and Cas finally let go of Dean. He had been helping him stand arabesque with an oversplit, something that Dean had quickly perfected, fueled by his desire to impress Cas. He could successfully lift both legs now. Cas had been right, the problem had been a combination of flexibility and balance issues. Dean had found small ways to put everything into his daily routine, the wobble board was now living in the towel cupboard in the bathroom, and Dean used it in the morning and evening as he went about brushing his teeth and getting ready for work or to crawl into bed. The extra fifteen minutes twice a day had really made a difference.

 

 

"So, is there anything I could help you with? You know, make this a little more even?" Dean asked. He wanted Cas to ask if he could dance with him, properly, but he couldn’t, not after he had proved how out of practise he was. So instead he asked that, hoping to put the idea into Cas' head.

 

 

"No, thank you. I’m happy to help you, it's nice for someone to see past the blindness, I'm not used to people taking my advice anymore."

 

 

"But you're a professional dancer..." People must be crazy if they couldn't see Cas' talent.

 

 

"I was," Cas sighed. "How about...” Cas took a deep breath and was suddenly interested in rubbing his knees. “Dinner... instead? You could take me out?"

 

 

"Really?” Dean was completely surprised at the suggestion.  “You want a date?" Dean asked, teasing and testing the waters. The teasing was a defense mechanism, he couldn’t bare it if Cas withdrew his offer, so he acted like it was a joke. Though by the look on the man’s face, it seemed he wasn’t the only one infatuated. He had hoped, but he had never thought he would be given the opportunity, it had been nothing but a slightly creepy fantasy… Could Dean really go on a date with another man? It would change everything...

  


"Fuck, how embarrassing… were you joking?” Cas’ whole face dropped in disappointment, and his smile that had reached his eyes was suddenly gone. “Have I been reading this situation wrong? I'll just go and crawl into a hole. Excuse me." Cas went to stand but Dean grabbed his wrist.

 

 

"No, no, please don't leave,” he begged.  

 

 

"Shit, you are gay, right?" It was Cas' turn to look super embarrassed and Dean could tell instantly that Cas was not joking, he had genuinely put himself out there in hope Dean would be interested. He decided to be honest, after all, he had been obsessing over this man for days, and the real thing was better than anything Dean could ever dream up.

 

 

"I'm bisexual,” he admitted, and saying it outloud for the first time in his life took a huge weight off Dean’s shoulders. It didn’t feel like a burden anymore. Cas simply looked up hopefully and bit at his lip nervously.  “You read nothing wrong,” he continued. “I would love to take you on a date. I just thought I would have to work a harder to convince you. I didn't think you would be up for it." He really didn’t understand why Cas would be interested at all.

 

 

"You complimented my dancing... you complimented my looks.” Cas shrugged, a small smile on his face as if it explained everything.

 

 

“You must get that all the time,” Dean said in disbelief.

 

 

“...You haven't treated me like I'm about to break.” Cas looked happy and Dean found himself gulping thickly at such a lovely expression on Cas’ face. He felt his mouth go dry. “You're the best guy I've met all year. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been a proper date?" He pulled a face.

 

 

"But... you don't even know what I look like..." Dean didn't mean for it to sound the way it came out. Fuck, he was so insensitive. "...am I a douche for saying that?"

 

 

"No, I don't know what you look like but I have practically felt you up, and I bet you're completely out of my league. My hair is going grey. Why would you think that I wouldn't at least attempt to get into your pants? And it isn’t about that for me, you make me smile."

 

 

"I'll take that as a compliment.” Dean grinned. “And your hair is not going grey," he added as an after thought.

 

 

"It is, I'm getting old, I'm thirty two this year." Cas sighed and laid back on the floor. "I don't know where the time went." Dean smiled and shuffled around so they were lying side by side. Dean was pleasantly surprised, he knew that Cas was older than  him, but he hadn’t been able to guess his age. He had thought he was late twenties at most, though he had never been able to decide, sometimes Cas looked tired and sad and that aged him. Either way, Dean was not bothered by the age gap, he liked the light dusting of grey in his hair.

 

 

"Well, if it makes you feel any better you look amazing for thirty one." Cas grinned at Dean’s words, his smile lighting up his whole face.

 

 

“Thanks, Dean… Are you my age?”

  


Dean licked his lips nervously before answering, “Erm, no, I’m younger. I’m twenty-four. Is it a problem?” He hoped that Cas would be just as unbothered by the gap as he was and he was happy when the other man didn’t answer, he just nodded and let his eyes fall closed.

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"I have a confession to make...."

 

Cas looked up curiously.

 

"You're not going to tell me you're a serial killer are you?" Cas grinned, bumping into him lightly with his shoulder.

  


They never went on their date, in fact they never mentioned it again, but they did sit side by side on the wall of the dance studios, eating greasy burgers after a particularly long and vigorous session. Dean had redressed but Cas was donned in a pair of black tights, a black vest and Dean's leather jacket.

 

 

"Jeeze. What kind of guys are you used to dating?" Dean joked and Cas shrugged.

 

 

"Go on, what were you going to say?" the other man prompted, before taking a particularly large bite out of his burger. They had got them from the burger van just around the block.

 

 

"I er, I watched you dance for days before I had the balls to come and say hello." Dean looked at Cas cautiously, really hoping that he hadn't freaked the guy out.

 

 

"Really? That's embarrassing... I get a bit crazy sometimes," Cas said, and hid his face in his hand in embarrassment for a second.

 

 

"You're dancing is very expressive, it's flawless. I love watching you dance," Dean said truthfully.

 

 

Cas smiled.

 

 

"Thank you, Dean. God, these burgers are so good..." Cas groaned appreciatively, effectively changing the subject. "If you keep feeding me this stuff then I'm going to get fat."

 

 

"I doubt that."

 

 

They finished their burgers in silence, listening the city around them. Cas was still waiting for Gabriel to lock up the studios."It seems Gabriel is behind with his work tonight," he sighed.

 

 

"What do you normally do when he's late, take a cab?" Dean thought about offering him some money to get home but his wallet was empty after buying food.

 

 

"Nah, I just wait."

 

 

"Do you need a ride? I can drive you." It was the right thing to do, if he couldn't pay for a cab, he should at least make sure he got home safe. It was almost midnight.

 

 

Cas hesitated for a second before he said, "Are you sure?"

 

 

"Come on you, I'll take you home, I can't leave you sat on a wall all night." Cas slid off the wall slowly and reached for Dean's arm, holding around his bicep.

 

 

"Do you mind?" he asked, squeezing lightly.

 

 

"Shut up, hot guy on my arm, why would I mind? Come on, this way." Dean lead him slowly around to the car, taking his time. Dean had never been so aware of his surroundings. Cas had his stick in his left hand, but he would feel responsible if something happened.

 

 

When he got the car, he wasn't quite sure what to do, he awkwardly opened the passenger side for Cas. Was he supposed to help him inside or would that be demeaning? He watched fascinated as Cas used his right hand to feel the frame of the door and then to figure where the seat was. He climbed inside surprisingly easy and pulled his seatbelt on. That was pretty impressive. Dean shut the door behind him and then went around to the drivers side.

  


Dean wasn’t familiar with the street that Cas lived on, so he searched it on googlemaps and picked a quick route. The streets were mostly dead at this time but Dean wanted to get him home safely. He couldn’t help but glanced away from the road every now and then, Cas’ hands gripped his knees tensely and he stared straight ahead of himself as Dean drove.

  


“Are you okay?”

  


“Yes, thank you.” Cas’ words were nervous and Dean glanced at him unsurely. He let the silence stretch out. “It’s nerve wracking having to rely on another person. I find it hard to trust people, and it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just the idea that my choice has been taken away because of my disability is unbearable sometimes.”

  


“I… I’m really sorry, I can take you back to Gabriel if you want.” It started to sink in how real this was, Cas wasn’t that confident person who was confined to the dance studio, out here he couldn’t be. Cas didn’t know if Dean was driving him the right way home, and putting that much faith in someone must be intimidating.

  


“No!” Cas protested. “I’m grateful for you doing this! I would much rather you take me home than a cab driver, I’m afraid they would drop me in the wrong place, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  


“Are you serious?” Dean frowned.

  


“Some people are assholes.” Cas shrugged.

  


“I would never do that to you,” he said earnestly and Cas seemed to relax slightly and smiled.

  


“I know that, Dean.”

  


  


Cas lived in a townhouse, there were steep steps leading up to the property which he whizzed up, Dean followed him with his hands outstretched before his brain caught up with the fact that Cas had probably done that a hundred times. He let his arms drop back to his side, feeling bad that he had expected him to stumble. Dean knew he was being ignorant. He annoyed himself when he automatically expected Cas to fail, he had enough of that from the rest of the world. He didn’t mean to do it, but when they were outside the comfort of their studio room it made him uneasy. The only way he could describe it to himself is that he saw more of Cas as a person, rather than a professional ballet dancer.

 

 

Dean stood waiting for Cas get his keys from his gym bag.

 

"I'm normally more prepared than this..." Cas muttered under his breath.

 

 

“It’s okay, man, I’m not in any hurry.”

 

 

“I know, I know, I just- erggg,” Cas growled in frustration and Dean smiled in amusement.

 

 

Dean wanted to make sure that Cas got into his house safe, so he patiently waited but didn't watch the man, he could see he was nervous. He thought about asking him if he wanted any help to find his keys but he quickly decided against it. due to cas’ stubborn nature.

 

A lot of the street lights on the road were damaged so it was dark aside from the occasional flicker from the nearest one. There was nothing extraordinary about the house from the outside; it was one of many identical ones on the street. He liked it though; it was a lot nicer than anything he would ever be able to afford.

 

 

"Did er, you want to come inside. You know, for coffee or something?" Cas was trying to sound casual, but Dean heard the waver in his voice.

 

 

He didn't need to be asked twice. He nodded before he remembered and said, "Yeah, that would be nice."

 

 

Cas finally found his key and pushed it into his door with well eased practise. Once it was open, he politely stepped to the side and gestured for Dean to hurry inside. Cas was quick to close the door behind them. He locked it and then hung up his key.

 

 

"Sorry, I don't like hovering outside." He shrugged.

 

 

"It's okay." It was understandable.

 

 

They both stood in the dark hallway opposite each other, things a little awkward. Dean glanced around, it was a long corridor with stairs off to the right and several doors on the left, it was decorated plainly and mostly bare. It looked a little bit creepy in the dark but it was warm, comfortably so, and was a relief to feel after being sat on the stone wall for so long.

 

 

“Can I?”

 

 

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts and turned back to look at Cas, who was holding his hands up unsurely, looking at him with furrowed brows.

 

 

“Yeah, I- it’s okay,” Dean agreed, though he wasn’t really sure what he was giving permission for Cas to do.

 

 

Cas moved forward slowly, trying to find how close Dean was standing to him. Dean stayed still, curious to see what the other man would do. Once they were stood closer, Cas pressed his hand against Dean’s chest hesitantly, and Dean found his feet agreeing with Cas’ light push as he walked back slowly, allowing himself to be guided by the man’s hand. They stood close, Dean relaxed back against the wall.

 

 

Cas' hands pressed against Dean's shoulders slowly and started a descent across Dean’s collar bones. He shivered in response, unable the help that he was holding his breath. Cas' hands were soft they moved over his skin, stroking across his neck and face, thumb tracing across his lips.

 

 

Dean took in a shaky, deep breath as he felt a twist of emotion in his chest. Cas was looking at him in the only way he knew how, feeling him with his fingertips. Cas had closed his eyes and Dean let his flutter closed too.

 

 

His hands carried on their journey, softly tracing across his nose and his cheekbones, thumbs feeling each of his eye lashes.

 

"Tell me what you look like, the things I can’t feel.” Cas whispered, and it sounded broken, the longing clear in his voice.

 

 

Dean licked his lips, nerves buzzing under his skin. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to describe himself. What if Cas didn’t like what he heard?

 

 

“I um, I have green eyes, not hazel but deep green.” He felt Cas’ nose press against his own, a caress that was intimate and his heart thumped in his chest. His hands were trembling as he raised them to Cas’ face to mirror his touch.

 

 

“Go on,” he encouraged him, his voice soft and quiet in the dark.

 

Cas skin was soft but his beard rough under Dean’s hands. He tried to see Cas in his mind’s eye as he felt him with his hands but it was so difficult. What he felt and what he knew Cas looked like were very different things. His heart went out to Cas.

 

 

“I’m pale and er, I’m covered in freckles, I used to hate them but I guess they look okay...”

 

 

“I’ve always liked pale skin...” Cas was so close, his forehead pressed against Dean’s and the man could practically feel the words spoken against his lips.

 

 

“My hair is light brown, but in the summer the sun bleaches it.” It was hard to think of anything when Cas was pressed so closely to him, his cold hands on his skin.

 

 

He had thought about Cas touching him many times, but he had never thought the other man would be the one to initiate it. They had literally been dancing around each other for weeks, flirting, but he had convinced himself that it was harmless, that it would never amount to anything, even after Cas had expressed an interest in that first week, they hadn’t mentioned it since. And here they were, stood in Cas’ hallway, feeling impossibly close, emotionally as well as physically.

 

 

"I knew you would be handsome."

 

 

Dean laughed breathlessly and linked his hands with Cas’, fingers lacing together and they leant against each other. Dean tilted his head and rested his lips over Cas’ in a not quite touch, giving the man enough space to pull away if he wanted. The touch made him tremble; he had never wanted something so badly. Dean couldn’t help the soft sigh of pleasure that escaped from him when Cas pressed back against the touch, lips delicately pressed against Dean’s in a caress that made his heart swell and his head dizzy with feelings. It was sweet, something that Dean had never experienced from kissing someone.

 

 

When they finally pulled away, they stood holding each other for a long time. Dean had never been interested in cuddling people, yeah, he liked to snuggle after sex occasionally, but he’d never stood so comfortably holding someone for this long. It felt just as exhilarating as kissing Cas had and he was unwilling to let go yet.

 

 

It was Cas who eventually stepped back.

 

 

“Come on, I want you to meet someone.” He smiled and tugged softly at Dean’s hand.

 

 

“Okay.”

 

 

Dean let himself be lead by Cas down the corridor, he walked with one hand skimming the wall. They walked into the kitchen and Cas finally clicked a light on, Dean blinked rapidly as he let his eyes adjust to the brightness. Dean was immediately drawn to a golden retriever who was stretching and then padding across to Cas. It sat at his feet obediently and looked up Cas and then at Dean.

 

 

“You have a dog?!” Dean exclaimed, unable to hide his excitement. “That’s awesome man, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. He itched to pet it, it was a gorgeous dog but it was clearly Cas’ guide and was awaiting instruction from Cas.

 

 

“I wanted to surprise you, her names Ella. Go play, Ella.”

 

 

Dean had his breath almost knocked out from him when Ella jumped up and started licking Dean’s face. He laughed and started to fuss her, amazed at well trained she was.

 

 

“Aww, what a good girl...” Dean cooed, not embarrassed to show his love of dogs in front of Cas.

 

 

Cas grinned made his way over to the kettle and went about making some coffee. He moved around the kitchen flawlessly, grabbing things from cupboards easily. Everything in Cas’ kitchen was immaculate, though Dean guessed it had to be or he’d never find anything.

 

 

“Don't worry, it’s decaf,” Cas said as he placed a coffee on the counter, but Dean wasn’t paying much attention, he was busy getting onto his knees and petting Ella. He eventually stood and wiped some stray hairs from his jeans and grabbed his drink, he sat down at Cas’ island counter next to the other man. He should really spend time with Cas instead of playing with his dog.

 

 

“Man, she’s an awesome dog,” he praised.

 

 

“Yes, I’d be lost without her.” Ella lay on the floor to the right of Cas, her tail wagging happily. “I’m glad you like her.”

 

 

“Yeah, man you’re really setting yourself up to be a catch. I liked you before but now the dog has

definitely sealed the deal.” Cas smiled, a flush spreading across his cheeks, though this time he didn’t try to hide it.

 

 

They finished their drinks quickly, shoulders pressed together and Dean occasionally leaning against Cas happily, unable to believe this was happening. He was sad to get to the bottom of his mug.

 

 

“Dean... would you like to stay?” Cas licked his lips unsurely and fiddled with his mug.

 

 

Dean had never been in a relationship serious enough that it meant spending the night with someone, but with Cas it was different, it had been a unique situation from the beginning and Dean was excited at how it was playing out. The experiences he shared with Cas left him nervous but eager for more. It was different to his other relationships in the best kind of way.

 

 

“Yeah, I- I think I would,” he said and squeezed Cas’ hand.

 

 

They left their mugs on the counter and Dean remembered to click the kitchen light off as Cas lead him towards the stairs. It felt like an important moment in Dean’s life as he walked up the stairs, he knew what this meant. It meant accepting Cas wholly for who he was, it meant a serious relationship, something lasting and real, and it also meant learning to accept himself for who he was. For Cas, he could do all of those things.

 

 

Cas’ bedroom was large, and Dean wondered how he could afford so much space, but he didn’t dwell on it for too long because as soon as they were in his room, Cas was dropping Dean’s leather jacket onto a nearby chair and pulling off his shirt. Dean watched him walk over to the ensuite, eyes raking over the firm muscle in his back and he felt his mouth go dry. Could he do this? Did he want to do this? His heart and his mind were struggling to agree.

 

 

“Please make yourself comfortable, you can borrow some of my clothes, they’re in the second drawer, I’ll be a few minutes.”

 

 

The door shut with a click and it left Dean standing in a strange bedroom by himself. He pulled himself together, this was Cas, this was what he wanted. Why was he always so afraid of making his own choices? He would never let this one thing go because of some weird issue he had with himself. Dean took a deep breath and tried to relax.

 

 

He strode over to Cas’ dresser and found some nightwear in the second draw. He sat at the end of the bed and looked around the room. As promised, Cas was only five minutes at most.

 

 

By the time they crawled into bed, it was almost two and Dean was glad that he was on a night shift the next day, he could lie in and relax all day. Hopefully, he could spend the day with Cas if it was something that the other man would want.

 

 

It felt strange lying in bed with another man, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sensation as Cas closed the space between them. He wrapped himself around Dean, strong legs tangling with Dean’s and muscled arms pulling him closer.

 

 

Dean thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

 

 

“Is this okay?” Cas whispered, his mouth close to Dean’s. He didn’t reply with words, instead he kissed him, letting himself melt into it, letting the feeling consume him. Cas kissed him back deeply, hands gripping at Dean as he stroked his tongue into his mouth. Dean lost control of what was happening, it started slow and passionate but ended up frantic and desperate, Cas was panting into his mouth and suddenly pinned him, flipping him onto his back.

 

 

Dean moaned deeply as Cas’ weigh pressed him into the mattress, he would have never guessed that six foot of solid muscle would feel so good against him.

 

 

“Please, please say this is okay?” Cas gasped, hands touching Dean everywhere, sneaking under his shirt and feeling across his stomach and chest as he devoured his neck with his mouth.

 

 

“I’ve- I’ve never...” It was overwhelming how aroused Cas had made him in such a short amount of time, and Dean fought for his breath. “This is new, for me,” he admitted. Cas’ touch slowed and he hovered over Dean, he leant down and kissed him softly, changing the pace back to something delicate as he reigned in his desire.

 

 

“We don’t have to do anything, I haven’t... since before...” he cupped Dean’s face with his hand, thumb stroking across the skin. “This is new for me too.”

 

 

They shared their breath, the weight of the situation bearing down on the two of them.

 

 

“I want to, I just don’t want to take advantage of you.” Cas laughed softly against his lips.

 

 

“Shut up, Dean.”

 

 

Dean grinned and did as he was told.

 

 

They took their time undressing each other, hands wandering and exploring over uncharted skin and lips never daring to separate. Dean sighed and moaned and clung to Cas as the man pulled him close, hands stroking over the globe of his ass and the back of his thighs, hips rocking together. The slick slide of their cocks was making Dean’s stomach twist with pleasure and he gasped for breath, unable to stop his hips from snapping forwards.

 

 

“Cas, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, and bit into Cas’ lip as he felt himself tip closer to the edge. Cas moaned deep and reached between their bodies to touch Dean’s dick and to rub his own against it with a better aim. Dean came, orgasm shocking through him as he throbbed in Cas’ fist, he slammed their mouths together and kissed him with everything he had, all tongue and teeth and trying to express the feelings that were racing through him. He moaned loud into Cas’ mouth as electric buzzed under his skin and pleasure exploded in his stomach and groin. He wanted, needed to be closer to the man. Cas’ fist worked over him slowly, milking his orgasm from him, and petting over his face as Dean finally started to relax.

  


He didn’t think about it, he just acted on instinct as he pushed Cas back and grabbed his dick, jerking the length and he still struggled to catch his breath. He looked down and watched himself wank the thick length, he rubbed his own spent dick against Cas’ hip, enjoying the aftershock as he rocked his hips.

 

 

“Look at you, so fucking gorgeous,” Dean moaned, gnawing at his own lip as he stared at Cas’ dick. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to feel it instead of see it. He felt the weight, the thickness and the silky smooth softness of Cas hot skin, he played with the slit and felt the man leak onto his fingers. He kissed across his face. Dean felt Cas come, hot liquid spilling over his fist and felt him tense next to him.

 

 

They came down together, kissing again, both unable to keep smiles off their faces.

 

 

“I wish I could see you,” Cas said finally, gripping onto Dean like a lifeline.

 

 

“You see me, no-one else has ever seen me the way you do.”

 

  



	5. Chapter 5

Dean woke up naturally for the first time in years, there was no blazing alarm clock shocking him into reality, instead, there was the soft shuffle of another person going about the room. He thought about getting up, he needed to go for a run and had things to do today, but instead he let himself relax for a little longer.

 

 

He eventually peeked an eye open, curious to see what his partner was up to. Cas was sat on the floor, tucking his ribbons into his pointe shoes. Dean smiled at him and then stretched with his whole body on the bed. He felt rested and content and dizzy with happiness as he thought about what happened the night before.

  


There were two mugs of coffee on the bedside cabinet, one was already half empty and he reached for the other. That was when he noticed Ella was sleeping in the corner of the room in a large bed full of cushions and blankets, man that dog was spoilt… She was wearing a [white fitted harness](http://www.dog-harnesses-store.co.uk/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=101&products_id=1575&zenid=5kpcl30a4et19gqaunqjp0e2k2), silver reflective patches down the side and GUIDE DOG printed clearly. It made Dean guess that she had already been out with her owner this morning.

 

 

He sat up in the large bed, pulling the comforter high as he leant against the headboard and cupped the hot beverage with his hands. Cas hadn’t noticed that he was awake yet, so he watched him silently, watched him warm up, one hand rested perfectly on the barre that was against one of the walls.

 

 

Looking around the room in the brightness of the first morning sun, Dean took in his surrounds properly. Cas’ bedroom was large, with beautiful big windows covered by vertical blinds, the room decorated in natural, bright colours. His furniture was all sturdy oak, beautifully crafted. Dean would kill for a bedroom like this. The first time Cas would visit his apartment, he knew that he would be completely self-conscious at having such a small space. Dean was happy that his friend had this space though, that he could warm up in the privacy of his own house; that he could continue to enjoy his passion even after his accident.

 

 

“Good morning,” Dean said quietly, not wanting to startle Cas. The man paused and smiled, though carried on through his warm up.

 

 

“Good morning, Dean,” he replied, looking just as happy as Dean felt.

 

 

“Thank you for the coffee.”

  


“I was going to wake you, but I thought I’d leave you a while longer, continue my morning routine. I wasn’t sure about the appropriate custom for lovers spending the night. I mean, is it rude to wake you at this time? I didn’t want you to think I was asking you to leave.”

  


“Cas, you worry too much,” he replied, fondly.

  


Dean watched the man’s feet as he went through his routine, he had only seen Cas dance en pointe once and it was beautiful, he had never even known that men could do it. Yeah, he had seen guys joking around with it, but Cas did it like it came naturally. He wondered if the other man could teach him... though he seriously doubted he could ever be that talented.

 

 

“I can feel you staring at me you know.” Cas grinned.

 

 

“I can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He felt warm when he looked at Cas, relaxed.

 

 

“Stop trying to distract me. You’re such a sap.” Cas flushed and rolled his eyes.

  


Dean was surprised for a second, he had never considered himself to be the sappy or romantic kind, and no-one had ever called him a sap before. But when he thought about it, he guessed he was a lot different with Cas than he had ever been with anyone else. There were no secrets with him, nothing that he was afraid of telling him. The walls Dean had worked hard to build around him were down, he was free to be himself, say and do whatever he wanted without having to worry what Cas thought. The other man never judged him or made him feel small for the things he had done, even the mistakes he had made. He had never felt this secure before.

 

 

Dean climbed out the bed, putting his coffee cup back on the cabinet and came to stand in front of the older man, he laid his hand gently over Cas’ on the barre and he relaxed his pose, slowly resting his foot back to the floor. Dean trailed his hand up Cas’ arm and then stepped forwards to close the space between them. He wrapped his arms around him, happy to breath in the clean smell of him, of soap and the apple shampoo he used.

 

 

“Thank you for letting me stay,” he said as Cas gladly returned his embrace.

 

 

“It was nice not to wake up alone and in the dark,” Cas mumbled into his shoulder. Dean stroked down his back in a comforting manner. He didn’t know what to say to that so he remained quiet, hoping that the gesture would be enough. He was grateful for Cas’ honestly, even if it broke his heart a little every time he said something like that.

 

 

“Will you come back to bed?” he asked, and took Cas’ hand, gently tugging at him. “Come on...”

 

 

“Dean... I just put my pumps on,” he complained.

 

 

Dean grinned seductively. “I like them, keep them on,” he said, letting the heat he felt pour into his words. Cas’ eyebrows rose, though he didn’t question Dean. He followed him to the bed. Dean sat on the edge and pulled the slightly larger man into his lap. He rested with his knees on either side of Dean, his hands on the man’s shoulders.

 

 

“Dean, this isn’t a one time thing for me, you understand that, don’t you?” he whispered, resting his forehead against Dean’s. “I can’t do this unless I know that you feel the way I do... Last night was perfect for me...”

  


Dean smiled, feeling relieved that they were both feeling the same.

 

 

“I feel exactly the same, I had assumed that when I said yes last night.” he explained, but Cas looked a bit unsure, they he was withdrawing into himself. “Look, I would be crazy to throw this away, Cas. I want to be with you, you must know that. I’ve been crazy for you since I saw you dance for the first time.” Cas smiled and then laughed as he nodded, a small happy sound escaping his lips at Dean’s words. He pulled Cas closer, hands splayed on the man’s strong waist.

 

 

“I’m pleased, because I really, really like you.” Dean felt warmth spread in his chest, and his face ached from the smile on his face. God, he had never felt so close to another person, this was insane.

 

 

“I can’t promise everything will be perfect, you know I’m working through my issues, but I promise that I’ll be honest and we’ll get through all of this together.”

 

 

“That sounds like a good deal.”

 

 

Cas was still smiling when he kissed him, and it was like the air was knocked out of Dean’s lungs. He couldn’t get used to this feeling, to the addictive soft drag of Cas’ lips against his own. Cas was instantly responsive, his body speaking to Dean in a way he had never experienced, he could feel every touch that Cas enjoyed, feel the man’s desire and passion from the way he tried to move impossibly closer, his hands gripping lightly at Dean. The soft touch sent arousal and warmth spiralling through him, making him dizzy and overwhelmed from his own feelings. Dean held Cas’ hips tightly, desperate to ground himself as Cas’ mouth opened up, his tongue stroking gently against Dean’s lips. Dean responded to the touch, unable to stop himself from gasping softly into the man’s mouth.

 

 

Cas rocked his hips and Dean was unable to keep still as his own cock ached and begged to be touched. He lay back, pulling Cas with him so he could meet his hips half way, the two of them still holding each other, lips connected.

 

 

“Fuck, oh,” Cas whimpered, and Dean felt a spike of pleasure curl through him at the words.

 

 

He couldn’t resist kissing his way down Cas’ jaw. He was fascinated by the feeling of his beard scratching across his lips; Dean found that he liked it and did it again.

 

 

Cas was moaning now, soft, deep sounds falling from his lips as he bared his neck and Dean bit into it softly, tongue laving at the spot and he felt the man shiver above him, arching insistently into the touch.

 

 

Dean’s confidence grew with every sound that Cas made, and he flipped them gently, laughing at his surprised sound as he suddenly found himself lying on his back. They were still at the end of the bed, so Dean used one foot to balance himself as he grabbed Cas’ thighs and lifted him slightly, trying to get them into a comfortable position. They ended up with one of Cas’ legs thrown over Dean’s shoulder and then other curled around his hip. Dean ground his arousal against Cas’ ass and reached down to touch the man through his underwear, hand palming at the hot bulge.

  


He bit into his lip as sensations assaulted him, he still wasn’t accustomed to this, it was still new and exciting and touching Cas was a complete thrill. It was like he was discovering sex for the first time all over again, heart beating fast like the first back-seat-fumblings he had experienced as a teenager. He was scarily close to coming in his pants like he was sixteen again. And he did, hips shuddering as he rubbed his clothed dick against Cas, a moan spilling from his lips. He leant forwards to share a deep kiss with Cas again as he felt his orgasm ripping through him. The other man followed him shortly after, and Dean felt it a second before it happened, he could feel Cas’ cock twitching in his hand before he soaked his underwear and kissed Dean like his life depended on it.

 

 

Dean climbed off Cas, panting and relaxed next to him, he curled up at his side and tried to calm his heart. Their hands found each other’s quickly.

  


“I have to say, I hope we can fit that into my morning routine, that would be amazing…” Cas laughed, still slightly out of breath.

  


“That can be arranged.” Dean grinned and leant up to kiss him again.

  


 

  


 

They ended up stripping out of their soiled clothes, wiping themselves with soapy cloths and pulling on fresh underwear. Cas invited Dean to join him with his morning routine, going through stretches and warm up. Dean was barefooted as he had left his dance bag in the car, but Cas was still wearing his pointe shoes. They stood side by side, each with a hand on the barre as they started with a plié, repeating it several times until they progressed into a grand plié before they started a basic barre warm up. Dean remained aware of how close he was standing to Cas, he didn’t want to accidently kick him, after all, sometimes he could be a complete idiot when it came to ballet.

 

 

“Why do you dance en pointe?” Dean asked as they gradually both went into separate positions. “I thought it was just for girls. Don’t get me wrong, I could watch you do it all day, but I was just curious, that’s all.” He had been meaning to ask for a while but he had never gotten around to it.

 

 

“Why do we dance at all?” Cas shrugged and Dean rolled his eyes, it was so typical of Cas to give him an answer that didn’t even make sense. “Pointe dancers always fascinated me and I was such an ambitious child. My mother was a ballerina, she taught me how to pointe dance before she lost the ability. It always makes her happy to watch me dance.”

 

 

“That’s nice.” Dean smiled. He had thought many times of what his own mom would have thought of Dean dancing. It must have been nice to have a supportive family...

 

 

“Yes, I’m inspired by her. Sometimes I get depressed because I’m blind but I keep thinking about her and how lucky I am. She’s so strong. She um... she has MS so she can’t dance anymore, it’s too painful.”

  


“That must be really difficult for her,” Dean sympathised. He didn’t really know anything about MS but he wasn’t completely ignorant to it.

  


“She takes it in her stride, she’s a very determined woman. I’m very proud of her.”

  


“You should be proud of yourself too, ya know. I’ve never met someone like you before. You’ve handled your accident so well, I don’t think I’d be strong enough to go through something like that.”

  
  
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said sincerely. “But it’s one of those things in which you don’t have a choice, I just have to keep trying and hope everything works out okay… Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

 

 

 

 

 

There were small things that showed what kind of person Cas was before his accident, photos on his walls of him and Gabriel with big smiles as they stood at the top of a mountain, and another of them skiing. There were a lot of photos, and a lot of people that Dean didn’t recognise. He walked the length of the lounge, looking at them all, enraptured as he looked back into Cas’ memories.   
  


 

Dean walked to one of the many bookshelves in the room, he occupied flicking through a book, and staring at the hundreds of books he felt his chest start to ache. None of these books were braille, they were typed and each and every one of them was loved, spines worn and pencilled notes in the margins. He glanced sadly towards the door making sure Cas was still in the other room and placed it back on the shelf, feeling like he had invaded something sacred.

  


It was then that Dean noticed the display cabinet in the corner of the room, it was exploding with trophies, framed certificates, photos and playbooks - The Nutcracker, La Sylphide, Don Quixote. The realisation that these weren't ballets that Cas had attended, but ones he had danced made Dean’s stomach drop, he had never realised! Cas had told him that he was a professional dancer, though it had never really sunk in until now.

  


He carefully opened the cabinet and picked up the first playbook, Tchaikovsky's Classic Ballet, Swan Lake, and opened it as he looked for something in English as it was written in what looked like Russian. Towards the end of the book, Dean’s suspicions were confirmed, Castiel Krushnic - The Prince, and there he was, posed fiercely on the stage like he belonged there. Dean almost dropped the book in a haste to put it back, afterwards he sat on the couch with his hands shaking from the realisation of who Cas was. Until now Dean had been unaware of Cas’ second name, he had never even thought about what Cas might be short for. Castiel.

  


Dean knew who Castiel Krushnic was, every ballet dancer knew. He was one of the dancers he had been told to research while he was desperately trying to catch up with the rest of his ballet class when he was fifteen. Russian born Castiel moved to America with his family at age six to audition for the School of American Ballet, where he was accepted and graduated at eighteen. He was not only famous for rising to stardom at the young age of thirteen when he performed in A Midsummers Night Dream, but he was famous for his name. Dmitri and Naomi Krushnic were the famed sweethearts of the 60’s and 70’s stages as they performed Romeo and Juliet on a worldwide tour. Dean had studied Cas’ parents, Dean had watched Youtube videos of Cas’ performances before he had known who he was.

  


It was crazy but Dean hadn’t even recognised him, after all, why would he? On stage he wore make-up, he was clean shaven and had his hair slicked back. Nothing at all like the man who was stood currently in the kitchen making pancakes, wearing pyjama pants and bare footed with shaggy hair and a peach fuzz across his face. And he was older, much older than when Dean had watched him on video tape - that was almost ten years ago.

  


Dean felt like his heart was going to explode, he wasn’t sure whether it was adrenaline from the discovery, the dizzying realisation of who he was sleeping with or something else - he wasn’t even sure if it was a good or a bad feeling. Dean sat and blinked rapidly as he tried to sort through his feelings, he was shocked but of course he was happy, but more than anything he was sad. He couldn’t help but stand and walk back to the cabinet again.

  


He stared at a tiny pair of well-worn, black pointe shoes, smaller than the length of his hand, they were hung inside the cabinet by the ribbons. The stitching in them was terrible and in the wrong colour thread and it made him smile as he thought of Cas as a child, of him sat and trying to stitch his first pair of pointe shoes as tradition required. Of him watching his parents on the stage and inspired to be like them one day.

  


And he did, Cas had succeeded. He had traveled the world, he was famous, and his life had been Dean’s teenage dream. And now it was all gone. How had it happened? Dean’s phone felt heavy in his pocket, he could probably just google it, and he was tempted for a while but he knew it was wrong. He would wait for Cas to tell him because yes, he was Castiel Krushnic, but he was also Cas, the guy who had made dancing fun for him instead of feeling guilty about it, who Dean had opened his heart to and the man who kissed him like he was something special.

  


Dean felt like crying for the loss of Cas’ eyesight - he understood Cas’ behaviour, his anger and frustration, the way he danced like it was his last chance. Dean understood more than ever how much Cas craved for the lifestyle that he had loved.

  


Thousands of people adored Cas, but where were his fans now? Why was no-one challenging that Cas had been kicked out of his theatre company? Surely that would be an outrage to do that to a Krushnic…

  


Dean felt the hot curl of anger flick through him and his throat ached. He swallowed thickly and tried to hold back the tears.

  


This was so unfair.

  
  
He stared at the photos in the cabinet, of Cas with his friends, dancing with people that thousands looked up to and admired. It all looked so surreal. How could Cas go from being there to where he was now? Dean knew more than anything that Cas deserved to be back on that stage, if only he could make Cas believe it again.

  


 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Dean spent all day with Cas, he was happy to have an escape from the usual stress of his life and he had more fun with Cas than he had in a long time. They didn’t do anything particularly special; the day was spent lounging around and listening to music, sharing tidbits about their lives and eating amazing food. It came as a surprise to Cas that Dean was a keen cook, and Dean took advantage of the fact that Cas had a full fridge and a pantry full of ingredients. He baked two pies with Cas’ encouragement and they both had two large slices with vanilla ice-cream. When it got to the late afternoon Dean started glancing towards the clock, aware that he should be having a nap and getting ready for work. He didn’t want to leave, he was comfortable curled up on the couch with Cas; Ella at their feet.

  
  


“I have a night shift at nine,” Dean admitted, not too happy that he had to share this fact.

  
  


“Oh,” Cas sounded surprised. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I’ve stolen your attention all day!” He sat up and untangled from him. “You need to sleep.”

  
  


“It’s okay, I’ve had a really nice time,” Dean assured him. “I would invite you to mine next time but I really don’t have the space, so I hope I’m invited again.”

  
  


“Sure, I’m not doing anything tomorrow, or any day for that matter.” Cas laughed. “It get’s pretty boring not working so your company would be most welcome.” It made Dean wonder if Cas had kept in contact with any of his friends after his accident, the way he had said that made him sound as if he was lonely, something Dean had not considered before.

  
  


“Yeah, sure Cas, I’ll give you a call.”

  
  


  
  


Weeks passed, spent in a comfortable haze of dancing, laughter and sex. Dean had never been so happy, he sometimes pinched himself just to make sure it was real. Work was still hard and sometimes he felt dead on his feet by the time he made it to the studio, and Cas pushed him to the limit, working him harder with every dance session that they shared.

 

He spent a lot of time thinking about telling Sam, he wanted to come clean about everything, about the dancing, Cas… but ultimately he backed down, unable to gather enough courage. It wasn’t that thought Sam wouldn’t like Cas, because he was a 100% sure that the two of them would get on great. There was just something that stopped him… cowardice probably.

 

It would be great for Cas to meet new people, Dean had been right in thinking his existing social circle had diminished since the accident, but Dean was still not sure that introducing him to his own friends was the best idea. Cas had lost a lot of his confidence and the people at the bar could be a bit full on, he didn’t want to scare him away. So Cas continued to hide himself away as if he ignored it enough, eventually the problem would go away, he danced at the studio, spent time with Dean and was visited by Gabriel. Cas liked to pretend that it was enough.

 

Dean remained silent in the thought that Cas’ dancing at the studio was a waste of talent, he was sometimes astonished that Cas continued to hang around there, he could be anywhere really. France. Russia. He wondered why the man hadn’t searched further for a new company. There must be someone who would be honoured to give him a contract. He wondered if he had an agent anymore. Dean was convinced that Cas saw himself as a different person to the one before the accident, and in a way he was different, but the important things remained the same.

 

It all meant a lot more to the man than he ever made out, that much was true. Dean had been right, he was lonely.

 

Dean turned the thoughts around in his head until he couldn’t think of anything else. He wasn’t sure where to start to make any of it better. He knew the easiest start was Sam, but how could he explain that he had kept this secret for so long? But on the other hand, he couldn’t continue to lie forever. He briefly thought about letting Sam catch him dancing, but somehow that seemed too embarrassing. His next thought was introducing him to Cas and slowly introducing ballet into his life, but that didn’t seem like it would work either. He was reluctant to admit that he was going to have to come clean about living a secret life. It sounded dramatic, even in his own head, but to Dean, that was the reality of the situation.

 

Dean knew that Cas had changed him for the better and he would support him through his decision to come out to Sam and admit to dancing. Cas had helped him love his art again and Cas continued to teach him and help him grow. Dean wanted to help Cas too, but it wasn’t sure how. And most of all, he wasn’t sure if Cas would let him.     

  
  


 

They were at the studio, Dean rested on the floor and his legs in a horizontal over-split as he leant on his elbows, hands under his chin. There was a metronome playing from the speakers, a loud click – click – click guiding Cas through a routine that Dean didn’t recognise. He had described it as an en pointe warm up for advanced ballerinos.  

 

“Don’t be mad, but I googled you.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, it just blurted out his mouth, his lips unable to keep quiet about his moment of weakness the night before. He had sat on his bed, laptop on his knees and fingers hovering nervously over the keyboard. Dean was horrified at his confession.

 

Cas paused his movement but did not look surprised. “I’m not mad,” he replied calmly, then carried on with his eyes focused to the front of him, his arms and hands spread, fingers extended beautifully as he balanced on the very tips of his toes, standing en pointe. “I thought you would do it sooner if I’m perfectly honest.”

 

“No – I... I was curious, I wanted to know what happened.” Dean was deeply disappointed in himself, but eager to explain what had actually happened. “I searched your name but I didn’t read the results!” he said, as he tried to justify his behaviour to himself, though Cas honestly looked unaffected at the admission. “I know that when you want to tell me that you will; clicking those links felt like a betrayal of your trust so I didn’t. You’re not just a celebrity I can read some trashy article about. So I didn’t click them. I just had to tell to you.” He felt nervous and fidgeted, adjusting his position.

 

“I want to tell you, but Dean, it’s still painful to me. It’s still delicate. I wouldn’t have been mad if you had read a news article about me.”

 

“No, I... I can’t. When you are ready you’ll tell me. I just needed you to know.”

 

“Your honesty is touching Dean.” Dean felt his cheeks flush.

 

“I don’t want there to be any lies between us. I want to do this properly. I’ve never had a relationship like this before Cas. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, I haven’t felt this way in a really long time.

  
  


  
  


Dean’s hands were trembling as he set the table, it was a bit rickety and had a piece of card folded under one of the legs to stabilise it, and the cutlery didn’t all match but it was the best he could do. He was armed with Sam’s favourite beer in the fridge, his favourite meal in the oven and a fresh salad in the fridge. Dean paced back and forth in the small space, worried as he waited for Sam to get home.

 

Tonight was the night; he was going to come clean about everything. He had a serious chat with Cas the night before, he had admitted that Sam was unaware of his sexuality and that he hadn’t mentioned he was seeing anyone to him because he was scared of the repercussions. Cas as expected had been supportive and told him that Sam would love him regardless. Though the two had never met, Dean talked about Sam often and Cas knew that they were very close and he was confident in telling Dean that Sam wouldn’t care. Dean knew that too, it was obvious, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to admit.

 

When he finally heard the door he scrambled out the kitchen, jumped over the sofa and slumped across it in an attempt to look casual. He waited until Sam was dropping his book bag into a chair and shrugging out of his coat before he greeted him.

 

“Hey, Sammy,” he said, sitting up and stretching as he clicked the TV off.

 

“Hey, what smells so good? Did you cook?” He looked excited at the prospect, clearly hungry after a long day at the university.

 

“Yeah, I don’t have work tonight, thought we could marathon some Game of Thrones and have a few beers if you’re not doing anything.” Dean had actually taken tonight as a holiday day; he wouldn’t tell Sam that he had booked it off for something so frivolous because it would annoy his brother. Dean also wouldn’t tell Sam that he had raided his book bag for his planner this morning either to check that Sam’s evening was free; it would seem a bit creepy.

 

“Yeah cool, I have no plans, that’s great Dean, I’m starving.” Dean grinned and pretended to be surprised at the confirmation.

 

When Sam noticed the set table he looked surprised and shot Dean a suspicious look, though he didn’t say anything. He just sat down and let Dean drop a beer in front of him.

 

Dean busied himself in the kitchen, everything was ready so he just needed to serve it all, it took a few minutes at the most and before he knew it Dean was stuffing his face with food and trying to ignore Sam’s expectant look.

 

“So.... good day?” Sam asked, clearly expecting Dean to tell him what this was all about. Dean swallowed thickly and nodded slowly. He felt a heavy anxiety rest on his chest, making him too nervous to do anything more. He scolded himself internally. He felt like he had to do this, Cas deserved more than to be a secret, he wanted to be able to show him off to his brother and his friends. Dean took a deep breath and gathered his nerves.

 

“Yeah, erm, I have something to tell you.”

 

  
  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this update took so long! I've really been struggling to write and I'm behind with pretty much all of my WIP :( Thanks for reading guys, comments welcome :)


	7. Chapter 7

“Yeah, I kind of guessed after all of this,” Sam replied, gesturing to their dinner. “I mean, it’s not like I get this treatment every day.” Dean frowned and took another deep breath. “Well?” Sam asked expectantly, glaring at him with a mischievous grin; his smile slowly started to slip as seconds passed and Dean remained silent, staring at the table.

 

Dean caught Sam’s gaze and realised his brother was watching his hands trembling as they held his knife and fork. Dean immediately dropped the utensils shoved them under the table, humiliated at his body's betrayal. The atmosphere quickly became awkward.

 

“Just - shut up, Sam, this is hard for me,” he confessed. He took a deep breath, but it was as if his throat was closing off, he swallowed trying to get rid of the lump that had formed there.  “I just don’t know where to begin.” He took a huge swig of beer and then cleared his throat.

 

It was a lot harder than he had thought it would be, it was as if the words were unwilling to come out. It didn’t matter that he had spent the entire day rehearsing them over and over, he still felt like he had been thrust into the situation with no idea how to handle it.

 

Sam stopped eating and slowly placed his cutlery on the table. He stared at Dean, it made him self-conscious and he resisted looking away under his stare. “Dean, I don’t care what it is, I’m your brother, I’m here to support you. Just please, for the love of God, tell me what’s been going on these past weeks.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, the sincerity in Sam’s open expression gave him the courage he needed.

 

“It hasn’t exactly been a few weeks… it might have been a bit longer than that… I’m not really sure.” Dean’s mouth was dry and he felt like he was stumbling over his words, his face flushed with embarrassment.

 

“Might? Dean, I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that.” Sam was basically begging him, and it made Dean feel so damn guilty.

 

He sighed for the hundredth time, his stomach in knots. “I’ve… met someone, and it’s pretty damn serious.” There, he had said it and the skies hadn’t opened up so lightning could strike him.

 

“Dean! This is brilliant! I’m so happy for you!” Sam was grinning from ear to ear, which seemed to settle the churning in Dean’s stomach a little. Dean nodded minutely, chewing at his lips with a worried expression on his face. “ What… wait… why are you looking at me like that?” Sam looked at him suspiciously.

 

Dean knew it would be better to just explain. He had barely scratched the surface and he wasn’t going to finally admit everything by sitting there trembling like a pansy. He thought of Cas’ smile, the smile that he wanted to look at for the rest of his life, it was one he would never be ashamed of. He needed to do this, Cas deserved the best, and Dean was going to try and be that.

 

“It’s a bit complicated…” he started. “ Cas, is erm-”

 

“Cass?”

 

“Yeah, err, Cas, it’s short for Castiel.” He couldn’t help a small grin at that.

 

“Sound pretty.” Sam smiled at him encouragingly.

 

“Yeah, ahem, erm,” Dean stuttered, his face flaming. “I think so.”

 

“Does Cas not like you back or something? It’s not like, one-sided serious, right? Because I refuse to defend you in court for stalking charges.” He knew Sam was joking, but Dean still scowled.

 

“Cas has a disability.” There, he’d said it. He could do this.

 

Sam let out a huge sigh of relief. “Wow. That’s really not what I was expecting you to say! I was worried she was like married or something, I was worried about all kinds of illegal crap, fuck, I was worried-- sorry, this is all coming out wrong. Please continue while I drown in the shame of my selfish blabbering.”

 

“Cas is delicate,” Dean said. “Very delicate, and it’s part of what I’ve been wanting to tell you. I want to talk about this, all of it. I’m not completely ready but I don’t think I ever will be, so I think I need to come out and say it. Sam, I-”

 

Just then Dean's phone blared to life, vibrating noisily across the countertop. The sound immediately stopped him in his stride and the words he had been about to say stuck in his throat. His face flamed and his hands started to shake in embarrassment again.

 

Sam looked at him curiously. “Are you gonna get that?”

 

Dean came back to life and grabbed the phone. It was an unknown number but his location settings told him it was local to the city. He wondered who it could be at this time. He swiped the green phone and brought the phone to his ear, disappointment twisting nauseatingly in his stomach.

 

“Dean, it's Gabriel, I need you to come get here fast. It's Cas.”

 

It was as if the earth dropped from beneath him.

 

“What's happened?” he demanded. He was already grabbing his car keys and hurriedly pulling on his shoes.

 

“I don't know, I came to bring him dinner and I can't get in the house, Ella's howling at the door and he's not answering his phone. Please, come quickly!” Gabriel sounded panicked, it was such stark contrast to his normal happy-go-lucky personality that his words immediately put Dean on edge.

 

“I’m coming now, just - just keep trying, okay?” He hung up his phone, his heart hammering in his chest and a thousand possibilities running through his mind.

 

“Dean, what’s happening?” Sam had jumped to his feet as well and was shoving his boots on too.

 

“It’s - I don’t have time to explain right now. Just stay here, I’ll be back,” Dean explained quickly, running out the door, but Sam was at his heels, racing down the steps with him. “Sam, just go home!” he yelled at him, frustrated.

 

“I’m not leaving, let me come with you! What’s happened?!” Dean only growled in response to his brother’s words. “You’ve been hiding so much from me, struggling alone about whatever all this is, don’t struggle, Dean. I’m your brother, let me help you!”

 

“Okay, fine! You didn’t have to be such a girl about it!” Dean yelled. He did not have time for this shit. So instead of arguing, he jumped into the Impala and waited until Sam was belted in beside him before he sped off.

 

 

The route to Castiel’s townhouse was imprinted in Dean’s mind, he drove there on autopilot, only stopping or slowing when he hit a red light. Sam tried to ask him questions on the way, but he shot him a look to silence him, Dean’s mind was preoccupied and he could think of nothing else but getting to Cas.

 

He pulled up in front of the steps at Cas’ house behind Gabriel’s car. The man was at the top of the steps, kicking the door. It stubbornly did not budge under Gabriel’s attempts. Dean didn’t bother to lock the car, he was outside and up the steps within seconds, Sam following him confused.

 

“Gabriel, what’s happening?” Dean was immediately in front of the glass door and trying to peer inside, but as expected it was pitch black. He could hear the scrape of Ella’s claws as she jumped up the door, and see her tongue as she licked the glass. She whined loudly at Dean’s presence. “Good girl,” he comforted her.

 

“I don’t know. Who's the sasquatch?” he asked, looking up at Sam who was standing there and apparently trying to make himself as small as possible.

 

“This is my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Gabe, Cas’ brother,” he introduced, not really interested. “Cas! Castiel?!” he called through the letterbox, but unsurprisingly there was no answer. “Don’t you have a key?” Dean asked as he tried the handle again, but the door would not budge. “Right, it’s deadbolted. We’re gonna have to break it down.”

 

“Are you stupid?” Gabriel fumed. “I just tried that.”

 

“Yeah, all five foot of you, me and Sam have got this, right?” He looked at Sam hopefully, who shrugged.

 

“Won’t be the best introduction to Cas, but I guess I’ve got your back if you think it’s okay.” The two of them stood side by side. “Ready?” Sam asked, looking like he hoped Dean would change his mind.

 

“Yep, on three.”

 

It took a few attempts due to Cas’ reinforced door, but after a few nicely aimed kicks the door hinges finally gave way. Ella was outside and jumping all over Gabriel as soon as the door bounced open, and Dean was inside like a flash, hitting the lights as he went. It was clear that something had happened as the hallway was a mess, the photos that lined the walls were smashed, some on the floor.

 

“Oh shit,” Sam whispered as he stepped inside, wide-eyed. “I’m gonna call 911.” He stepped back onto the front porch and pulled his cell out. Gabriel ran up the stairs.

 

“Cas!” Dean called. Ella was suddenly at his side, she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the kitchen. Dean heard his sobs before he saw him. He clicked on the light and dropped to his knees.

 

Castiel was in the centre of chaos, the kitchen had been ransacked, plates and glasses were smashed everywhere, knives littered the countertop, and every set of drawers and all the cabinets were open. The large kitchen window was smashed. And there he was on the floor, surrounded by glass, hugging his knees and breathing frantically. He looked shell-shocked, his breathing rapid.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispered. There was no answer. Dean reached for him, gently grasping his hand and trying not to frighten him. “It’s Dean, I’m here with Gabriel, you’re ok.”

 

Cas finally looked up, he took a shuddering breath before sobbing. “I don’t know where I am,” he cried. He clung to  Dean’s hand and Dean helped him to his feet. Castiel’s hands were on his face, stroking his hair and feeling his jaw line before burying himself into Dean’s shoulder. “I don’t know where I am!” he sobbed again. “ I don’t know where I am.”

 

Dean clung to him, realizing that Cas must have come home while he was being robbed. “Are you hurt?”

 

“I-I-I-” Cas was gasping between his sobs. He started hiccupping as he gasped for air. “Where am I?” he repeated.

 

Suddenly Gabriel was at their side, pulling them apart and grabbing his brother. “Cas, Cas are you okay? The cops are on the way. You’re in the kitchen.”

 

Tears streamed down Cas’ face, and Dean noticed for the first time that his eyebrow was cut and he had dried blood on his face. He was taking deep shuddering breaths and clinging half on Dean and half on Gabe, his grip painfully tight, his eyes clenched shut. He was still dressed in his leggings and ballet pumps, but he had left rehearsal hours ago. Dean dreaded to think how long he had been by himself on the floor, terrified and not even knowing where he was or what was going on.

 

“Cas, you need to calm down, you’re safe now,” Gabriel said, speaking clearly, but it did nothing to help Cas’ shocked state. If anything, he cried harder and started to slip back to the floor, pulling against the two of them as if forgetting who they were.

 

Dean felt overwhelmed, he didn’t know what to do. He exchanged a look with Gabriel but he looked just as clueless as he felt. Dean bent down, grabbing Cas and lifting him over his shoulder. Cas fought him, kicking out and punching, shouting and still crying. Dean dropped him on the couch with Gabriel’s help.

 

“Cas! Cas, stop it!” Gabriel shouted at him, grabbing his fists and trying to stop him lashing out. But he did not stop, he  So Dean did the one thing he could think of, he called for Sam.

 

“Sam! Help us!” he called desperately. Sam ran inside and skid to a halt as he met the sight of them wrestling Cas on the sofa. He hesitated and looked at Cas before realisation dawned on him.

 

“Just, give him space, okay?” Dean and Gabriel let go and immediately Cas closed up, curling into a ball on the couch. “Go wait for the police, I’ll keep him company-” Sam tried to dismiss them.

 

“He doesn’t know you!” Gabriel argued.

 

“You are making him worse!” Sam retorted at him.

 

Gabriel looked hurt and then sulked out the door. “Look after him,” he scowled, glaring at Dean who was stood awkwardly in the room, unsure where to look or what to do. Cas’ breathing was still heavy in the room.

 

Sam approached Cas cautiously. “Castiel, my name is Sam, I’m Dean’s younger brother, you know Dean, don’t you? I think you’re having a panic attack, so you need to do some really big breaths for me, okay?” The new strange voice seemed to catch Cas’ attention and he slowly nodded, his breath still catching as he sniffled. “Are-are you blind, Castiel?” he asked tentatively and Cas nodded slowly.

 

“I don’t know where I am.”

 

“You’re safe at home, you’re in your lounge on the sofa. Your brother is here and Dean is here. Can you remember my name?”

 

“It’s-it’s Sam,” he repeated back, taking a big breath and seemingly coming back around to his senses.

 

“Dean, go get his guide dog,” Sam whispered, before taking some big loud breaths.

 

Dean shot from the room, trusting Cas in Sam’s capable hands. In his panic, Dean had completely forgotten about Ella, or that fact that she was actually a guide dog. They had accidently shut her in the kitchen. He ran to get her. He found her crying where she had been left, behind the kitchen door, and as soon as the door was open, she ran to Cas.

 

Dean returned to the lounge to find Sam sat on the floor in front of Cas, gripping both of his hands tightly and talking to him calmly. The two of them seemed to be doing a breathing exercise and Sam was talking them through it. He watched from a distance as Ella jumped up on the couch and lay her head in Cas’ lap.

 

“..and here’s your dog. What’s her name?” Sam asked.

 

“This is Ella. Sam - I’m so sorry, what must you think of me?” Cas was strewing his face up again, looking like he might cry.

 

“No-no-no, keep breathing, we can talk about this later, okay? Just deep, deep breaths.”

 

Cas nodded. “Thank you, Sam.”

 

Dean smiled from the doorway and decided to wait outside with Gabriel. He felt like he was intruding. He wasn’t needed right now, Cas was going to be okay.

 

  


 

“So you’re-”

 

“Yep, I’m gay.”

 

“...and Cas is-”

 

“Yes, Sam, he’s my boyfriend.”

 

“...okay.”

 

“Okay?” Dean asked, surprised.

 

They were at Gabriel’s house. After the cops had arrived and took a statement from Cas, they had all decided to meet up there to calm down. There was no way that Cas could sleep at home with the front door broken and the kitchen window. So Gabriel had packed Cas’ things and explained it was best for Cas to stay with him as he was familiar with his house’s layout. It had been a mad night for everyone involved, but most of all, Cas, who was currently taking a shower, giving Dean and Sam a wonderful minute to exchange a few well-needed words.

 

“So, what? That’s it?”

 

“Well, to be honest, Dean, I don’t know what you expected, but I’m not about to give you shit and I’m not going to throw you a coming out party either. That one has been coming a long time.” Sam sighed and took another deep gulp of his coffee with a big fat grin on his face.

 

“You knew?” he gasped. He had to resist throwing coffee in his loser brothers face as he looked at him sassily.

 

“Dean, just last week I’m pretty sure you were wearing spanx in the kitchen-”

 

Gabriel, who had been loitering in the background and trying not to get in their way, burst into laughter and started dancing around the kitchen with his own mug. Sam looked at him strangely and then looked at Dean as if he could explain his odd behaviour. Fortunately, he could. He had avoided things for long enough. He had to come clean.

 

“Actually, Sam, that kinda has nothing to do with it, but… it has everything to do with something else. Which is how I kinda met Cas, actually. You see, Cas is a professional ballet dancer-”

 

“What, no way! That’s awesome, Dean!” Sam looked completely surprised and really interested.

 

“It is?” he said, the words just slipping out. Gabriel scoffed and stared at him pointedly before disappearing upstairs.

 

“Well yeah,” Sam continued. “I mean, I’m not a huge ballet fan or anything but I can appreciate it as a sport or dance or whatever it is. But Dean,  I don’t care if Cas is a ballet dancer, or that he’s blind,” he said. “Or that he’s a guy for that matter. Just - jeez, stop lying to me and hiding shit! So if you’re hiding anything else then please, just lay it out for me now!” Sam blurted out.

 

Dean gulped. He couldn’t believe he had been so selfish all of these years. His lying had completely spiraled out of control. Shit, his dad wasn’t even around anymore, Sam was the only family he had, he should just tell him. For goodness sakes, it was only a dance. But if he were to say that he wasn’t afraid of Sam’s reaction to the next piece of news, then he would be lying.

 

“Sam. I-I need you not to laugh here,” he said, deadly serious. “But I really, really love ballet, like an insane amount. I'm like completely fanatic about it. I’ve actually been ballet dancing in secret since I was a teenager...” Dean held his breath and looked hopefully at Sam.

 

Sam shook his head and Dean could not read his expression at all. “Dean seriously, I-I don’t know what you want me to say about that. I really can’t see you… in what, a tutu?”

 

“Jeez, Sam! I don’t wear a freaking tutu, I’m not a chick!” He punched him in the arm, frowning and Sam burst into giggles. “Stop it, Sam, don’t laugh at me!” he yelled.

 

“Dean, are you joking because I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not here.” He laughed uncontrollably and Dean’s face was on fire at his brother teasing him, but somehow he already felt lighter. 

 

“Dude, I am dead serious. In fact…” Dean stood up and toed his shoes off, he then proceeded to lift his foot over his head. Sam spat coffee all over the counter and started choking through his laughter. “Sam, I wanted to shock you, not kill you!” He couldn't help but crack a smile. This was nowhere near as bad as what he had been imagining. Sam coughed and laughed uncontrollably, unable to stop the tears creeping down his face. After a while, Dean could not help but laugh too. He felt like everything was going to be okay. And even thought tonight had been awful, finally, his life was coming together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... so.... I'M BACK!! I told you guys that I wouldn't abandon this fic and I was telling the truth! :D I hope you guys are as happy as I am because I am seriously buzzing to be here. For those who have been continuing to send me messages on here and on Tumblr, thanks so much for your continued support! And for everyone else who is unfamiliar with myself and my fan fiction: I had some crazy bad family emergencies and then I had a baby, babies are really hard work, that is all. :D


	8. Chapter 8

Dean could hardly believe the last 24 hours, everything seemed so surreal. And the fact he was already back at work, and nothing had changed, seemed to reinforce the feeling. Sam knew about Cas, about ballet - everything! And yet, the world was still turning. No-one was looking at him strangely and everything was as it usually was. It made Dean feel stupid because what had he really thought would happen? He didn’t even know anymore…

 

And Cas, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He cared for him more than anything else in the world (after Sam) and he was worried. They hadn’t spoken since the other man had stayed at Gabriel’s last night, it almost felt like Cas was avoiding him. Those few hours felt like an eternity when he was used to talking to Cas until he fell asleep and then meeting him before work for an hour at the studio. Dean was sure he was being paranoid, after all, Cas had more important things to attend to than Dean, but he was happy when his cell started vibrating in his pocket around midday. He glanced at the screen and then shouted to Jo that he was going on his break. He basically jumped over the bar counter to get into the back quick enough so he could answer privately.

 

“Hello, Cas?” he greeted, then listened for Cas’ voice to respond. There was silence on the line for a few moments.

 

“Hello, Dean.” In that moment, the relief that spread through Dean was euphoric.

 

“It’s so good to hear your voice,” he admitted, a smile spreading on his face for the first time that day.

 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been myself. I actually called to apologise about last night…”

 

“Cas, what are you talking about? Why would you need to apologise?” Dean scolded him before he realised how sharp his tone was, he sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Cas. Jesus Christ, you were robbed.”

 

“I’m so embarrassed,” he groaned. “I’m a complete loser.”

 

“As if. Are you okay? How are you feeling this morning?”

 

“I’m fine, just my pride that’s wounded - look, can we talk later, meet up? I actually wanted to see if there was a chance you could meet me at mine this afternoon? The insurance company wants to see the damages before I get the repairs done, and I really wanted the repairs done today. Gabriel’s at work and I didn’t want to ask him after he already put me up last night. I know you’re at work, but I wasn’t sure what time you got off, or if you wanted to go to the studio, or-”

 

“Cas, whatever you need, man, just let me know,” Dean insisted, cutting Cas off from his rambling. “I don’t finish ‘til 3, but I can leave early if you need me to.” He wasn’t sure if he could afford to do that, but the words were already out of his mouth and he realised he actually meant it. It would mean losing a couple of hours of pay but some things were more important, Cas being at the top of the list.

 

“No, Dean, you don’t have to do that, I would never want to inconvenience you,” Cas immediately protested.

 

“Dude, it’s fine. I’ll go and speak with Jo, now!” Dean had already decided. “I can come and pick you up from Gabe’s, drive you to yours, and then we can wait for the inspector or whoever to get there. Then is there someone coming to fix the window?”

 

“Luckily, yes, I just have to call them, one of the perks of being blind, I get to cut the queue,” he joked. Dean allowed himself a small smile. He knew it was Cas’ way of coping with the situation.

 

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.”

 

They said their goodbyes and then Dean braced himself to talk to Jo about why he urgently needed the afternoon off. He could do this. Cas was way more important than him being embarrassed. Besides, it was time for him to come clean about everything. He had been lying long enough.

 

  
  
  


The insurance inspection had been fairly simple, they had received the police report and everything was very cut and dry. There had been a break in at a celebrity residence, said celebrity was blind and had arrived home mid-invasion. There had been money, jewellery, and some antiques stolen and damage to the property, including the damage Dean and Sam did to the door - thankfully, they said Castiel could claim for this as well. Dean felt awful about it now, but at the time it had been necessary and Cas had just shrugged it off. Cas had attained minimal injuries, but none the less, he was injured and left vulnerable, they offered him a doctor and also a therapist, Castiel refused both. He said as long as he could still dance then he was fine.

 

After the gent had left, the silence stretched on for a long time. Dean tried to break it a few times; he made Cas a coffee chatting away as he did it, he talked about his chat with Sam and he played with Ella, but Cas remained still and stony faced. Dean wondered what was going on inside his head.

 

“Cas, I erm… I’m really glad that you're okay.” His voice broke and Dean was surprised how emotional he became as soon as the words had left him.

 

Cas’ face finally softened. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” Cas’ voice was raspy and full of emotion and it broke something inside him. Dean felt the warm splash of tears from his own face and an ache bloomed in his chest and spread through him, choking him.

 

Cas stood up from where he had been rooted on the couch and reached out towards Dean’s voice. Dean grabbed his hands and pulled him into a firm embrace. To feel Cas solid against him was something that Dean would never get tired of. Cas’ smell, his touch, the feel of his body against his own, the familiar scratch of his beard against his cheek - Dean found himself in tears.

 

“I was so worried, and I handled it so bad. I feel like such a dick! I didn’t know what you needed, I can’t believe that Sam managed to take care of you and I couldn’t...” And so words poured from Dean’s mouth, all his fears, all the things he had dared not to say, all the insecurities and emotions that he had kept to himself last night, some of the things that he hadn’t even been aware of. But still, he let the words come. And as the tears splashed down his cheeks, Cas gripped him like a lifeline and it was good to feel needed.

 

“You are everything I ever need,” Cas said firmly and it made Dean believe him. Believe that this was still real. That they were setting up the foundations of something so important, something bigger than Dean had ever experienced. But he wanted it, he wanted this. He wanted Cas. “ I’m sorry I scared you so much,” Cas continued and Dean nodded and tried to steady his breathing as his tears fell. He buried his face into the crook of his neck. He squeezed Cas, pulling him closer, feeling his strong chest pressed against his own. He was solid and real. He was okay.

 

“This is hard,” Dean admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing but I know I never want to stop.”

 

“Dean, it’s so hard, I know that. I-I don’t know what to say.” He moved slightly away, pulling from the embrace. He sighed. “It was never my intention to make you cry and I don’t want you to feel like you have to look after me.”

 

“Cas.” Dean frowned. He wasn’t sure what to say, or how to express what he meant without it all coming out wrong. He had never been good with words but he needed to try. “This isn’t your fault,” he started. “And given the choice, I would never change you. This was just one of those things that shouldn’t have happened but it did. And I don’t feel like I have to look after you, not like you think, I mean, of course, I want to care for you…” His words were all jumbled. He wasn’t sure if he was making sense. “But I can’t lie, I’m terrified about leaving you in this house-”

 

“I hate that I can’t see, I hate that I’m so weak! If I wasn’t blind then this wouldn’t be an issue!” Cas was frowning deeply, his eyes brimming with tears from the frustration.

 

“You aren’t weak, Cas,” Dean replied softly. “Don’t even think that for a second. I know you’ve got this, that you are independent and strong - a lot stronger than I will ever be.” He rested his forehead gently against Cas’. The other man responded in kind, he rubbed his hands up Dean’s arms and cupped his face.

 

“You make me feel strong,” he whispered. “Thank you, Dean.” It brought a small smile to Dean’s face. He gently leant forward, hesitating slightly before he closed the space between them, kissing Cas deeply. The tension seemed to melt from his body. Cas moaned softly and kissed him back, relaxing. They broke apart after a few moments but they stood in the lounge for a long time just holding each other. They were interrupted by a knock on the door, they reluctantly pulled apart.

 

Everyone seemed to arrive at once and for the next hour, the house was full. The cleaning crew made quick work of the mess, sweeping the glass and managing to get things back to some semblance of normality. All the while the window fitters repaired the window in the kitchen and fitted a brand new door. The security company arrived and Cas gripped Dean’s hand tightly as they fussed over the alarm and fitted a panic button for Cas in case something like this would happen again and he could not get to the phone.

 

After they all left, the two of them stood in the kitchen, Dean going over the new security system for the tenth time.

 

“Dean, I get it. Stop worrying,” Cas grumbled. “I know I was stupid, I didn’t set the alarm, this was my own fault.”

 

“It was  _ not  _ your fault, you ass,” Dean said affectionately. “No-one thinks that this will happen to them! Shit, I don’t even have an alarm for my apartment. It’s a piece of shit though, I actually live in a hovel compared to your house, so I doubt anyone will break in. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

 

“Like I said earlier, I’m fine, Dean, it’s just my pride. I panicked and then I got stuck in that, I couldn’t seem to snap out of it. It’s stupid but I felt like I was drowning.”

 

“It was a panic attack, Cas, and I don’t think any less of you for it. We are all human. We all have weaknesses.”

 

“I feel like a child, needing your brother to help like that.” Cas ran a hand through his messy locks, stressed.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry Cas. Trust me, Sam, never meant for you to feel that way!” Dean assured him.

 

“It wasn’t Sam, it’s just me. I was overwhelmed. He helped me. I’m just embarrassed is all.” Dean understood why, he probably would be the same if the situation was reversed.

 

“Can we just not talk about it now. I just want to forget about it for a little while. Will you  take me to the studio?”

 

Dean grinned. “Of course, Cas, anything.”

  
  
  
  


The two of them stayed at the studio until it was dark. It was comforting to dance and stretch and feel the hum of the music overtake him as Cas played a  _ Ludovico Einaudi  _ album from his iPod. They did their usual warm up until they settled into something freestyle, something that was just them.

 

Dean couldn't keep the smile from his face as for the first time, Cas guided the two of them around the dance space, counting a beat and giving Dean instructions. Cas gripped his hands tight and showed him where to hold him, how to position his body and how to lift him. It was intimate and Dean's heart was overflowing with joy. There was no doubt about it, he wanted to do this for the rest of his life.

 

Afterward, they lie on their backs on the studio floor, hot and sticky and their hands tangled together between them.

 

“Dean?” Cas panted and turned to face him. He stared at Dean as if willing himself to see him.

 

Cas was undeniably handsome, everything about him made Dean weak at the knees. And his eyes, though unseeing, were beautiful. He could hardly believe that he was allowed to touch him. That he had something special with such a wonderful, gorgeous person, when he was just Dean. 

 

Cas squeezed his hand when Dean didn’t answer.

 

“I’m here, Cas.” Dean shuffled over closer so their shoulders were touching and leant his head against Cas’, seeking comfort.

 

“Dean…” he repeated in a soft whisper. “I’m unconditionally and irreversibly in love with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like my fics? Check out my [website!](www.faith-valconbridge.squarespace.com) And my [blog!](http://superpotterlock.tumblr.com/)  
>  
> 
> Special thanks to [Mistofstars](http://mistofstars.tumblr.com/) for the wonderful artwork, for all the late night complaints, and being such a good support - she is the driving force of this fic and I never would have published it with out her. Please, please check out her fics on [Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=kudos_count&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&commit=Sort+and+Filter&pseud_id=Mistofstars&user_id=Mistofstars).


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